


Something of a Mystery

by LosttotheHoping



Series: Something of a Mystery [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Torchwood
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fan Art, Gen, M/M, Sci-Fi, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 27,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosttotheHoping/pseuds/LosttotheHoping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is mixed up in a mystery.  One that will take him from his voyage across the stars, and pit him into the middle of a war between the supernatural, the Winchesters, and the Cybermen.  However, there's more than one person trying to pull strings- some for the better, some for the worst, but all for an ultimate end that leaves the Doctor with one option; solve the mystery and save the day.</p><p>But is there any hope of success?  Or is this the Doctor's last journey through Time, once and for all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue: Something of a Cybernetic Mishap  
> Warning: Very frequent hints at various stages of boy love. Also, warnings for Jack.
> 
> The Prologue for my SuperWhoLock... 'cause I'm a dweeb that way. Yes, this means I'm jumping on the bandwagon. But how could I resist? I've been attempting various DW fics and DWxSPN fics for ages. Read and review! It'll make me happy.
> 
> Also, yes, I know it's a little rushed and kind of longish, but that was for backstory, since I didn't feel like going through the trouble later on. And yes, this is just DW x SPN, for here. But don't worry! Chapter 1 has plenty of yummy Sherlock luff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, the Winchesters, Cas and Jack deal with cybernetic creatures made to look like ghouls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Very frequent hints at various stages of boy love. Also, warnings for Jack.

It was the only visible shelter they could find, so when the boys stumbled across a blue "police box" (did those things _really_ exist? Dean would wonder later), they scrambled inside and slammed the door behind them, latching it shut.  Silence descended, as if the ghoul chasing them had lost track of them.

" _Sam_ ," Dean hissed, staring into the room.

Sam, trying to peer through the 'window' on the door, frowned.  "Not now, Dean," he snapped, shrugging off his brother's tugging hand.  "I think we may have lost her, but we'll have to move on sometime-"

"Saaaammm," Dean whined.

"Not _now_ , Dean," Sam repeated distractedly.  "For now I think we can catch our breath and-"

" _Saammyyy, it's bigger on the inside!_ " Dean said, voice unusually high with near-hysteria.

"What the hell," Sam growled, whipping around, "Are you talking... about...  Oh good god."

xXx

Twelve hours previously...

Dean was just waking up when his cell phone went off, and with a groan, he slapped at the bedside table where it lay.  It slid off with his hand and clattered to the carpet, and he cursed under his breath.  He opened one eye and blearily peered over the bed, spotted it and retrieved it.  Hitting send, he pressed it to his ear.  "Hello?"

" _I have a job for you boys, it looks like,_ " Bobby said on the other end.

"A job?" Dean asked through a yawn.  He forced himself to sit up, stretching one arm over his head.

" _Yeah.  Murders.  Seven of 'em.  In Lawton, Oklahoma._ "

"Murders.  Lawton.  Got it."  Pause.  "And this has anything to do with us because...?"

" _They were all eaten._ "

"Oh, yeah, that would do it," Dean said, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.  He glanced over to the other bed where Sam was crashed and threw a pillow at him.  "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, it's time for work."  He turned his attention back to Bobby as Sam thudded to the floor and cursed under his breath.  "So how you know this isn't some sorta sick cannibal?"

" _I don't.  But that's why you guys are going to check it out.  You're still in Texas, right?_ "

"Yup.  Crashed in 'Kilgore Community Inn'.  Did you know that they have giant metal oil rigs here?  Like, fucking _huge_!  Three stories easily.  And these things have Christmas lighted stars on top of them, too!"  He grinned.

" _... I don't care.  Just get to work,_ " Bobby said, and hung up.  "Idjit," he added under his breath.

xXx

Lawton, Oklahoma, 5:33 PM, October 3rd (Six hours later)

Dean and Sam were doing their usual thing, suited up with FBI badges and nice shoes.  They walked into the local sheriff's office and up to the counter, pausing to give the man standing there cursory looks.  Sam managed to catch the tail-end of what he was saying.

"-would like to examine the bodies, since that's my job and all."  He had a very heavy British accent and Sam was hard-pressed to believe he was American at all.  The man held up a leather wallet-like thing with a blank piece of paper inside to show the man behind the desk.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Smith.  Of course," the man said and looked at Sam and Dean.  "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Dean offered him a smile, glancing curiously at the man's paper.  "Yeah," he said, pulling out his FBI badge.  "I'm Sean Micheals and this is my partner Eric Tristan.  We're from the FBI.  We received a report of multiple cannibal attacks?"

The man took their badges and examined them a beat before handing them back and nodding.  "Seems you're all here for the same reason.  Yes, eight bodies have been found-"

"Eight?" Sam asked, ignoring the Brit to quirk a brow at the officer.  "Our report says seven."

"Another was found this morning."  The man sighed.  "You can just go through those doors and speak with Larry.  He'll show you to the coroner's office."

They stepped away and Dean held out his hand for the Brit.  "Smith, was it?"

"Yes, John Smith, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Micheals," the man said with a quick smile.  "Interpol," he flashed the blank paper and Dean seemed to accept it.  "You see, we've been having similar cases in England and I was sent over to check it out, see if there's any connection, that sorta thing."

"Aah, yeah, makes sense," Dean said with a smile.  "Well, how about you join us, then?  Since we're all going to the same place and all."

"It would be my pleasure!" Smith replied.

"Uh... Sean?  A word, please?" Sam said, and dragged his brother away from the Brit before Dean could reply.  "What are you doing?"

"What?  He's Interpol!  I saw his badge.  If we don't let him come with, he could get suspicious," Dean explained reasonably.

"Dean, he flashed you and the officer a blank piece of paper," Sam said.  "That's hardly a 'badge'."

Dean snorted.  "Did not.  It said 'John Smith, International Police' and had all his information on it," he said.

Sam gave him a look.  "Have you been _smoking_?" he demanded.  "Trust me, Dean, it was blank-"

"Sorry to interrupt, gents, but we should probably go examine the bodies, yeah?"  Smith beamed at them, suddenly standing less than a foot away.

Dean jumped.  "Geez!  Where'd you come from?!"

The man blinked.  "A galaxy far far away," he replied, straight-faced.

Sam wasn't so sure it was a joke.

Dean smirked.  "Good one.  You've seen Star Wars?" he asked, leading the way and ignoring his brother's irritated frown.

"Seventy three times," Smith replied.  "Very inventive.  Never gets old."

"Yeah?  Who's your favorite?"

"Jar Jar Binks," Smith replied promptly.  "Reminds me of an old friend of mine.  Except my friend's ears were... uh, shorter."  He chuckled.

Dean grinned outright as they stepped into a hallway.  He glanced at the doors and found 'Larry Goode'.  "Must be a good guy," he commented and knocked on the door.

Smith smothered a laugh.  "I bet he is."

Sam rolled his eyes and knocked again.  No answer.  Cautiously, he tried the handle.  It was locked.

"Can I help you?"

They turned to see a tall man with a sallow complexion, wearing the uniform of the place.  He had short cut salt-and-pepper hair and large green eyes speckled with blue and brown.  The bridge of his nose had hollows in the sides of it, as if he wore glasses often, but said glasses were nowhere in sight at the moment.  His shoes were brown.

"Ah, I'm John Smith, from Interpol, here to see the cannibal bodies?" Smith said, pulling out his 'badge' and showing the man.

"And I'm Sean Micheals, and this is my partner Eric Tristan," Dean added, offering his badge as Sam held up his.

The man barely glanced at any of them.  "Fine, follow me," he said, frowning.  "I'm Larry Goode."

Dean and Smith smirked at each other behind his back, earning a reproving glare from Sam.  Meanwhile, Goode was still talking, filling them in.

"They were found all over town, in different areas with different ethnicities, nothing tying them together except one thing."

"Which is?" Sam prompted.

The officer shoved open one side of a set of white double doors.  He frowned at Sam.  "That every one of them was eaten alive," he said.  "I mean that literally.  Our autopsies show that each victim was alive when our cannibal started in on them."

Dean winced.  "Ouch.  Geez, that's awful."

Smith was frowning.  "Bloody hell..."

"There was nothing else at all in common?" Sam asked as the man lead them to a wall covered in metal drawers and started pulling them open one at a time.

Dean grimace.  "Uck."

"Decay," Smith commented.

It took several minutes, but finally all three had checked over the bodies and excused themselves.  Smith smiled and held out his hand at the door, holding a card.  "It was nice to meet you both.  Now I have to get going... If you find anything that could possibly link the cases, gimme a call?"

Dean held up the card after shaking Smith's hand.  "Will do," he said as Sam took the proffered hand.  "Uh... just to be certain... can I see that badge of your's again?"

"Sure," Smith said.  He pulled out his badge and held it up.

Dean examined it for a moment, then pointed and frowned at Sam.  "See?"

"... no, I don't," Sam retorted, annoyed.

"Pardon?" the man said.

"Nothing, Mr. Smith," Dean replied and grabbed his brother's arm.  "My partner's just a little cranky."  He leaned over and stage-whispered, "I think it's that time of the month."

Smith smiled.  "Alright," he said, turning to go out the door.  He paused, blinking.  "Ohhh, myyyy..."

Dean looked.  And nearly face palmed.  Cas stood just outside the door, staring back in at them with narrowed eyes.  "That's uh... that's our other colleague, Manny.  Sorry, Mr. Smith.  We gotta jet."  He waved, vaguely hearing Smith's reply as they went out the door.

"... no problem at all..."

Cas frowned at them as they came out.  "I have been searching for you.  Bobby informed me I would find you here, but it has taken me several hours to track you down."

"We just got in town a half hour ago," Dean replied.  "Unlike you, we don't have the wonderful power of teleportation."

"I see..."

"Oy!"

They turned, halfway to the car, to find Smith running to catch up with them.  He was staring at Cas, eyes sweeping out to either side of the angel in apparent awe.  "What is it?" Cas asked tersely, frowning and glancing self-consciously behind him.

Smith just gave them a broad grin.  "Nothin'.  It's just that... you're _gorgeous_!"  With that, he waved and walked off, going around the side of the building.

It took .3 seconds for Dean to burst out into loud laughter.  "Dude!  I think Cas just got hit on by his first gay man!"

Cas looked like he wasn't sure how to respond to that, which is why it was probably a good thing that Smith was already gone.

Sam heaved a sigh, frowning.  Something about that man left him unsettled.  "C'mon.  Cas, what did you need to talk to us about?"

"I was going to help you," Cas said, frowning faintly.  "I believe these may be-"

"Ghouls?" the brothers chorused.  "Yeah, we thought so too," Dean finished and shrugged.  "C'mon."

Cas vanished.  Sam rolled his eyes and glanced around to make sure no one had seen.  "Alright."

xXx

They checked out the places that each of the victims lived in, finding that all of them, except the third and fourth victim, lived in small apartments either alone or that their roommates (or sister, in one case) had not been home at the time.  The third and fourth victim were married and living in their first apartment since the wedding.

It was at their apartment, incidentally the last one they checked, that the brothers struck gold.  "Whaddya make of it?"

"Definitely an ear, and I believe both of our victims had both each," Dean answered his brother, crouching.

"It looks like the second victim's," mused Cas, eying the ear on the table (it had been under the dresser in the bedroom, where the murders took place).

"Scenario time!" Dean said.  He loved doing this part.  "Okay, so the wife was killed first.  Say she was home alone and the ghoul targeted her, but the husband comes home from where ever he was at, sees what's happening and tries to defend her.  He tears off the ghoul's ear in the struggle before the ghoul stabs him in the gut and proceeds to... well, you know," he ended lamely.

But Sam was nodding.  "Yeah, seems like it.  But how are we gonna find the ghoul?"

"Start with how the ghoul got in," Dean replied promptly.  "Last one used the vents and sewer system, right?  Let's try that first."

Cas vanished.  Sam shrugged.  "Alright."

They searched the house and eventually ended up in the basement, where an old rusty grate lead into the sewers.  "Well, we've found our entrance," Dean said, and tugged on the bars.  They quickly gave way and he tossed them aside with a loud clatter.

The two made their way inside, soon running into Cas, who was frowning and peering around a corner.  "Cas?"  Dean peeked around said corner and frowned.  There it was.  The ghoul, in the form of the eighth victim.  "Got 'im."

"Them," Cas said.  "There are several."

"Yes, and we're about to feast!" a voice cackled behind them.

Dean swore and exchanged looks with Sam.  "Run!"

"I'll hold them off!" Cas called after them as they darted away.

Thus ensued a chase from not one, but five ghouls.  Castiel was nowhere in sight when they reached the street and dashed along.  The ghouls were catching up when they saw a blue box of some sort, and since they weren't in sight that moment, the brothers dashed into the box to hide in hopes of not being found.

"Oh good god."

"Not exactly!" a voice chirped from somewhere inside the vast space of jumbled wires and tubing, knobs and piles of buttons and levers.  From a hall to their left, a familiar face appeared.  "Oh, well hallo!  Welcome to my TARDIS... though I've not the faintest why she let you in.  Maybe she likes you."

Dean pointed.  "Why... why is... is..."

"... yes?  Come on, I thought you had more wit than that," Smith said reprovingly.  "Well, anyway, doesn't matter.  You two look outta breath?"

Sam stared at him suspiciously, but before he could answer, Cas appeared right beside Smith and swayed on his feet.  "That was... more impossible than I'd thought," he said, and collapsed.

Smith barely managed to catch him, sinking to his knees beside the weak angel.  "Ah ah ah," he tutted.  "None of that, c'mon, let's get you to a place where you can lay down."

Cas tried to shove him away, with surprisingly little success.  "No, must... not ghouls..."

"Well of course they're not ghouls," Smith chided.  "Ghouls?  Really?  You thought they were _ghouls_?!"

"Who _are_ you?" Sam asked.  "First you flash around a blank paper like it says something  and somehow manage to convince people that it does  and then you suddenly sound like you know what ghouls are?"

Smith blinked at him.  Then his expression suddenly lit with understanding.  "Ooooh, okay, I got it.  That was the psychic paper.  It's slightly psychic paper, shows people whatever I want them to see or what they want to see, depending on the situation.  Apparently you're more than slightly psychic, which is why it didn't work on you.  That happens sometimes, with some people.  By the way, angel?"  He pointed at Cas.  "Care to help me with him?"

Dean nodded, getting up and going over.  They were gone long enough for Sam to examine the main room curiously, and then they were back, Dean looking utterly baffled and Smith talking ninety miles a minute.  "Alright!" he said, and stopped for a breath.  "Let's start over!  I'm the Doctor."  He held his hand out to Dean.

Dean took it.  "Dean Winchester."

Sam waved.  "Sam Winchester."

"Brothers?" the Doctor asked.

"Yep," Dean said.

"Cool."  The Doctor clapped his hands.  "Now, those things you thought were ghouls?  They're actually cyborgs created to replicate ghouls.  It was an experiment gone wrong, that I unfortunately have to fix.  Care to help?"

Dean nodded.  "Uh, sure, but... how do we kill them?"

The Doctor gave him a look.  "One, 'kill' is a very bad word.  Two, the same way you'd kill a regular ghoul, I guess."

"You guess?" Sam asked, frowning.  "You don't know."

"Ah... no.  Well, I know the theory.  Well, actually, I read the notes _on_ the theory, but not the theory itself... Sort of.  But I'm pretty sure," the Doctor said.

"Pretty sure?" Dean echoed.

"Well, mostly sure."  He ran a hand sheepishly through his messy brown hair.  "In a way, sort of."

Sam sighed.  "Amateur," he muttered.

The Doctor pouted.  "Am not!  I happen to be the most brilliant  not to mention sexy  man you'll ever meet!"

Dean and Sam exchanged a loaded look.  "Okay," Dean muttered.  "To the batmobile!"

"Did you just call the Impala a batmobile?  Really?" Sam asked, staring at him.

"Shut it, bitch."

"You shut it, jerk."

They shook their heads and walked to the door, ready to return to the lion's den.  Behind them, the Doctor smiled.  He was going to like these two, he just knew it.

xXx

Blue eyes blinked open, staring up into a human face, complete with cocky grin.  "Hello, there... Anyone ever tell you you've got amazing eyes?"

Castiel blinked.  "I know my eyesight is fine," he said blankly.  "I am an angel."

"I'll say," the man said, smirking.  "Quite the angel."

Confused, Castiel sat up and eyed the man.  "... Yes.  I am an angel of the lord.  You are not surprised."

"Honestly?  I thought you were joking.  But nothing surprises me much these days," the man replied and smirked, holding out his hand.  "The name's Jack Harkness.  Nice to meet you."

Castiel knew this one.  Dean did it sometimes, when he was talking to other humans.  He reached out and shook the man's hand.  However, the man then did something Cas _wasn't_ familiar with.  He didn't release him.  Instead, he turned Cas' hand over and ran his fingers over the skin, smiling slightly.  "Such soft hands  Do you use lotion?" he asked.

"No," Castiel replied.  "Where are Dean and Sam Winchester?"  He pulled his hand away and got to his feet, much to Jack's disappointment.

"Sorry, who?" the man asked, also getting up.  "I don't know those names, but maybe if you have a picture of them or-"

Castiel reached out and tapped Jack's head with two fingers.  Jack flinched, taking two steps back with a grimace.  "Woah, okay, that's new Never seen 'em.  Sorry, I have a key to the TARDIS, so I saw it and let myself in  Do you know where the Doctor is?"

"I do not know a doctor," Castiel replied.

"How'd you get into the TARDIS then?" Jack asked, frowning at Cas suspiciously.

Castiel narrowed his eyes back at the man.  "A man and Dean brought me here to recuperate.  I believe his given name may have been Smith."

Understanding lit Jack's face.  "Oh, yeah, that's the Doctor.  He likes that name for some reason So, you don't have even a faint idea where they might be?"

Castiel thought about it and nodded.  "Dean and Sam would have headed off to fight the ghouls."

"Ghouls?"  Jack's brows lifted.  "You mean the androids?  That's what I was gonna talk to the Doctor about Well, since we're going to the same place  I just know the Doctor's got himself involved  how about we team up?"  He gave Castiel a grin.  "By the way!  You never gave your name?"

"Oh."  The angel blinked at him.  "Castiel."

"Gorgeous," Jack breathed.

Cas gave him an odd look.  "You are the second person who has said as much today."  He frowned, wondering if it was his manner of dress.  Taking a glance down, he decided it wasn't; he wasn't wearing anything unusual.

Jack pouted.  "Damn!"  The Doctor beat him to it!   well, he wasn't shooting down the possibility of a threesome  "Well, anyway, let's go look for the Doctor and your friends."

Castiel thought back, remembering the feel that Smith had given him.  Then he searched the city, found the man and reached toward Jack again.  Jack's eyes widened and he started to pull away.  Cas tapped his forehead again and they teleported.

The duo arrived just behind the Doctor, whom was ducking behind a table with Sam, avoiding gun shots and laser beams.  Cas got shot in the arm and ignored it, jerking Jack down and crouching behind the other two.  "Where is Dean?"

Sam jumped about a foot and looked at them.  "He's over there," he said, pointing to where Dean was hiding behind a filing cabinet.

"Jack!  Why are you in the US?" the Doctor asked, turning to beam at the human male.

"Oh, you know, we get around," Jack replied dismissively.  "So, I see you got to him first."

"Ohhh, heard about that?  Well, he is attractive, yes, but I was talking more about he as a specimen of his species," the Doctor rambled.  "He really is a lovely example of angel kind-"

"Doctor, can you focus, please?  We're in the middle of a firefight, in case you hadn't noticed," Sam said tersely.

"Yeah, so how did this happen anyway?" Jack asked.

"We went after them, the Doctor ran his mouth, Dean helped and they decided they were just going to kill us rather than bothering with eating us," Sam explained, and sighed.

"I rather think they over reacted," the Doctor inserted helpfully as Sam peeked over the top of the table and shot some rocksalt before ducking again.

"Fucking Dean forgot the actual bullets.   _Apparently_ rocksalt doesn't faze them much."

"Fucking Dean, huh?"  Jack glanced toward Dean, who didn't seem to have noticed them yet.  "Mmm That's a good idea."  He suddenly got up and darted out from behind the table.

Sam yelled, the Doctor scoffed and Cas blinked, and then Jack was full of bullets.  He collapsed five feet from the elder Winchester, whom was staring down at him in shock.  "I hate it when he does that," the Doctor muttered.  "Show off."

"Does what?" Sam asked, pale.

"Dies."  The Doctor beamed and peered at their adversaries.  "Now, where is it  Say, Castiel, was it?  I don't suppose you could distract them so I can reach that panel over there, could you?"  He nodded toward a fuse box on the wall directly across the room from Dean.

Cas gave him a curious look but nodded and vanished.  He reappeared behind the cyborgs and put his hand through the head of the nearest, drawing fire onto himself.  He vanished again, but by then, the Doctor had reached the panel and ripped it open, pointing at it with a blinking metal cylinder.

Cas reappeared beside Sam, frowning.  "Something is happening," he said, staring at Jack's corpse.

Sam followed his gaze and blinked when he watched Jack sit up and shake his head dazedly.  "How?"

"I do not know," Cas replied.

Jack glanced around, got his bearings and crawled over to Dean.  "Hey there, hot stuff.  How's it going?" he asked, smirking.

Dean gaped at him.  "What the- how-?"

"Long story short, I'm immortal.  I _die_  but then I come back."  Jack smirked and held out his hand.  "Captain Jack Harkness.  You must be Dean."

Dean, a little dazed, took his hand and yelped when Jack kissed his knuckles.  Then he punched Jack in the jaw, just as the lights flared and went out.  There was a short burst of light  sparks  and silence.  "Yes!" the Doctor crowed excitedly.  "I am _brilliant_!"

"Yes you are, Doctor!" Jack said, rubbing his jaw.  "Are we clear?"

"Are we _clear_?  Who am I?  Einstein?  Of course we're clear!" the Doctor retorted.

"I can't believe it was that easy," Dean muttered, getting up and feeling his way along the wall toward the Doctor.  "What the hell happened?"

"He was distracted," Jack added from somewhere behind him, sounding smug.

"Oh and I suppose _you_ were paying attention?" Dean snapped back.

Jack snickered.  "Nope."  There seemed to be some sort of suggestive undertone to the single word.

Sam sighed and blinked, glancing to his left where Cas stood.  The angel was glowing faintly.  " why are you glowing?"

Castiel looked at him.  "It is my grace.  I am healing Jimmy's injuries; I always 'glow' when I am healing."

"Oooh, that's lovely"

"Doctor, close your mouth and mop up the drool," Jack laughed.

Dean shook his head.  "No drooling over my angel," he muttered, finding a door.  He shoved it open and found himself in an alleyway.  "Guys, I found the exit!"

Castiel started walking toward him, the others following their glow-in-the-dark friend.  "Well," the Doctor said as they stepped out into the alley and smiled at them.  "I guess this is it.  We're parting from here out.  It was _lovely_ to meet you all."  He reached out, shaking Sam and Dean's hands respectively, then smiling at Cas.  "Especially you!  You have absolutely lovely wings, you know."

Cas blinked.  His wings flexed a little and settled again.  "Thank you," he said, confused.  This man could see them?

"Hey, can I catch a ride with you, Doctor?  Airfare is such a pain in the rear," Jack said.

"Sure, it'd be lovely to catch up."

As they walked off, Sam overheard their conversation.  "So where'd that redhead go?" Jack was asking, reaching out to adjust the Doctor's bowtie.  The effort was a waste, since the rest of the man's brown pinstriped suit was pretty much a loss anyway.

"What redhead?" the Doctor asked, batting away Jack's hands.

"Oh, wait, she hasn't showed up yet, has she?"

Whatever the Doctor's reply may have been, they were out of earshot and Sam didn't hear it.  The younger brother turned to Dean.  He smirked.  "So Have a boyfriend now, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Prologue for my SuperWhoLock... 'cause I'm a dweeb that way. Yes, this means I'm jumping on the bandwagon. But how could I resist? I've been attempting various dw fics and dwxspn fics for ages. Read and review! It'll make me happy.
> 
> Also, yes, I know it's a little rushed and kind of longish, but that was for backstory, since I didn't feel like going through the trouble later on. And yes, this is just DW x SPN, for here. But don't worry! Chapter 1 has plenty of yummy Sherlock luff
> 
> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	2. Something of a Problem with Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Skip  
> Jack goes to Sherlock and John, hoping they can help him find the Doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Very frequent hints at various stages of boy love. Also, warnings for Jack.

It was a rainy day.  One of those days where you don't really want to go out, but sometimes you have little choice about it, and you're forced to step outside your home and go to work.  It was one of those days that you spend the whole day feeling like it's morning, or thinking it's dusk.  Those really dark days where the sun doesn't show up at all, not even to peek down on the occupants of the earth.  
  
Yeah.  One of those days.  
  
Of course, the occupants of 221B scarcely noticed, as they were both sleeping in after just finishing a case the night before.  At like five in the morning.  It was currently eight.  
  
Actually, to be slightly more accurate, Sherlock Holmes was sleeping like a newborn baby while John Watson was tossing and turning on his bed, trying to sleep.  And failing.  
  
Finally, with a frustrated groan, he got up and padded down the hall, opening Sherlock's door to check on him.  Then he tiptoed inside and paused over the bed, reaching out to touch him... but he hesitated.  
  
Sherlock's cheek twitched slightly.  "You know, it's hard to sleep while you're standing there.  Either do something or go away," he grumped.  
  
John bit back a smile and sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Sherlock turn over to face him with a sour expression.  "Sorry.  I couldn't sleep."  
  
"Clearly.  Why?" the other male asked, frowning at him.  
  
John sighed and shifted, shaking his head.  "Just thinking about the H.O.U.N.D. incident," he admitted slowly.  
  
"Hou- John, that was two months ago.  Why are you thinking about it  _now_  of all times?" he demanded irritably.  
  
John frowned and didn't answer immediately.  Honestly, he kept dreaming about the look on Sherlock's face when he was sitting there by the fire in the Inn.  That look of abject terror, of horrified fury.  John couldn't  _stop_  thinking about it.  
  
He had been so damn worried about Sherlock, then, and even though he'd forgiven him for being an ass... it still bothered him.  Not the implication that Sherlock didn't need him.  He knew that wasn't true.  Had known it then.  
  
No, the thing that bothered him was that Sherlock  _did_  need him but was convinced that he didn't need anyone.  Not even his best friend.  Even more unsettling was the fact that John wanted Sherlock to need him...  
  
"John?"  Sherlock had sat up and was frowning at him.  "What are you upset about?"  
  
It was like Sherlock had forgotten that night, that terror.  As if it had been ejected from his memory and he couldn't quite understand John's own worry, couldn't remember it to even begin to fathom- but then Sherlock's confusion cleared.  He must have figured it out, in that eerily precognisiant way he had.  
  
"Is this about that stupid fight?" he demanded.  "I told you I was sorry.  You accepted my apology."  He paused, eyes narrowing on John's face.  "Do you need tea?  I think you need tea."  He got up to go make tea (which was always a bad idea, since it came out more inedible than it went in), but John grabbed his wrist before he'd completely risen.  The result was that Sherlock flailed comically for a beat before sprawling out half across John, knocking him off the bed and to the floor.  And of course Sherlock had to slide off said bed himself and land on top of him.  
  
"Oy, that hurt," the detective complained, shifting to rise, only to pause when he realized he was half an inch away from John.  More accurately, their faces were.  And John's was turning red.  
  
They lay that way for a minute before John shifted just slightly.  Now his back was completely pressed to the floor and Sherlock was settled more comfortably atop him.  Slowly, surely, Sherlock lowered his head, eyes meeting John's as if he couldn't help it.  John lifted his head.  
  
It would be at this point that the problem surfaced.  As Murphy's Law states, if anything simply cannot go wrong, it will anyway.  And Ms. Hudson walked in on them.  
  
"Sherlock?  Where are- ... _oh_."  
  
John watched in dismay as, with a sort of slow-motion unique to such an embarrassing situation, Sherlock's face contorted into a grimace.  "Ms. Hudson," he began, climbing to his feet to frown at her.  " _Why_  are you walking into my room  _without knocking_  at eight o' sodding clock in the morning?" he demanded.  
  
She gave them an embarrassed smile while John was righting himself.  "You have a client," she replied.  "Was quite insistent on seeing you.  Wouldn't take no for an answer."  
  
"Who is he?" John asked before Sherlock could snap at her to tell the man to beat it.  
  
"Jack Harkness, Torchwood," an unfamiliar voice replied, and a man leaned around the woman with a tiny grin.  "I hope I'm not interrupting."  
  
"You were," Sherlock retorted.  Then the words caught up with him and he was on his feet and across the room in half a tic.  "Torchwood?  You said Torchwood."  
  
"I did," Jack agreed, eyebrows lifting.  "You're talking about it like you know it."  
  
"I do know it.  Top-secret organization charged with protecting the world - primarily the country - from alien threat," Sherlock rattled off, darting to his closet to get something to wear that wasn't his nighty.  
  
John frowned slightly.  "How do you- no, nevermind, I'm not going to ask," he muttered.  
  
"Wow, you really are as good as your brother says," Harkness said, eying Sherlock.  "I could use your-"  
  
"Go away.  Er, get out, be right out in a minute, alright?  Bloody Americans," Sherlock muttered.  
  
Taking his cue, John got up and pushed both Harkness and Ms. Hudson out of the room, escorting them to the living room to have a seat.  Ms. Hudson went to get them tea.  John and Harkness sat down, and silence fell for a beat.  
  
Then Harkness apparently got bored and started giving John a strange look.  "You guys were kissing, weren't you?"  
  
"Wishful thinking," John retorted, though he didn't clarify as to whose wishful thinking it was.  
  
Harkness grinned.  "Aww, I  _did_  interrupt!  Sorry about that.  This is important, otherwise I would've just left you to it."  He paused.  "Say, don't suppose you'd like a, uh, advisory party would you?"  
  
John gave him a scandalized look.  "Are you mad?" he demanded.  
  
Harkness bit back a grin and shrugged, shaking his head side to side.  "A little bit, yeah.  I think it's over exposure to weirdness."  
  
John just frowned at him, even as Sherlock came into the room, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a khaki colored long-sleeve shirt.  He sat down in his seat and gave Harkness an unblinking stare.  "So?  What is it you need?"  His eyes swept over the man briefly.  "Or should I say, who?"  
  
Harkness grinned.  "Actually, we're in a bit of a pickle back at HQ.  We need to find a man called the Doctor..."  
  
Sherlock was eying him again, frowning.  "I see...  And this doctor can help you?  You don't appear to be sick, and since you're coming to me on behalf of Torchwood, I can only assume your need is extraterrestrial in nature.  So what is it?  And how could this doctor of yours help you in any way that I cannot?"  He was irritated with the man's assumption that he would just find the man and be on his way.  
  
Then he frowned.  "Unless this doctor is some sort of 'alien' expert, in which case he would be quite a bit more help to you than I.  But why would you need me to find him?  You have the best resources in the country at your fingertips.  Surely you can find him without my help.  Which would lead me to one of two conclusions.  A, he is not precisely what you're looking for.  Unlikely, as it is clear from the folder you placed on the table that you want me to find the person it entails.  Or B, he is who you're looking for, and it is impossible for you to find him with all of your technology and resources.  And why are you smirking like that?"  
  
Harkness was indeed smirking at Sherlock like the cat that swallowed the canary, eyes dancing with mischievous glee.  "I think you'll do, Mr. Holmes," he said, looking pleased.  "You'll do quite well."  
  
Sherlock blinked.  That was not the reaction he was expecting.  There was something he was missing, something very important.  With an annoyed look on his face, he snatched up the folder from the table and opened it.  He was greeted with a handful of pictures of at least eleven different men, previously known sightings, dates and an impossible time-line graph that skipped back and forth through the years, making absolutely no sense at all.  
  
Sherlock shuffled through the folder, forgetting about the others as he took in this new information.  This doctor, no the Doctor, was impossible.  No, not impossible, just very unlikely, but apparently true nonetheless.  At least according to this.  
  
Time travel, aliens, a guardian, more faces than was possible...  
  
At some point, he'd set down the folder, finished taking in the information and now going through it.  But he still didn't know enough.  His mind raced with all the different variables, the various places the Doctor could be, would be, should be.  
  
Finally, his attention returned to the room only to find that he was alone.  Harkness was gone, John was nowhere in sight.  Hours had passed.  Sherlock was feeling slightly hungry.  "Food," he mumbled.  
  
A head poked into view from the kitchen.  "Oh!  He's back from space," Harkness declared.  "Watson!"  
  
John wandered back in from the hall, even as Jack brought Sherlock an omelet.  "Hope you don't mind.  I was hungry.  Made some for everyone."  He plopped down with his own plate, and quirked a brow at Sherlock.  "So?"  
  
"I'm going to need more information," Sherlock replied bluntly.  "This man is impossible to read, and even more impossible to find.  At least not without more information."  
  
"That's all I'm authorized to give you," Harkness replied bluntly.  "Sorry."  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but he'd figured as much.  "Then we're going to need to lure him out."  He smiled.  "And I know just who to ask to help me out with it."  
  
xXx  
  
"He did what?" Bobby demanded, eyes narrowing on the male in front of him.  
  
"He denied the transport," Castiel repeated, a faint frown making an appearance.  
  
"Goddammit," the human cursed instantly, then winced.  "Er, pardon."  
  
Castiel blinked.  "I am familiar with your usual brand of eloquence, Bobby Singer.  I have come to expect such outbursts."  
  
Bobby shook his head.  "Right.  Did you try insisting?"  
  
"Yes," Castiel replied.  "He was quite upset that I tried to bring him anyway."  
  
"So that's why he destroyed my bathroom?" Bobby moaned, rubbing his temple.  "That stupid- why do I even bother?  Why?  Honestly.  He's so stubborn!  I don't know why I deal with-"  
  
The door opened, admitting Dean, who paused and blinked at them, mouth full of hamburger.  "Did I mish shomshin?" he asked.  
  
"Just trying to figure out how to deal with that damn child upstairs," Bobby muttered.  
  
Dean made a face.  "Is he still bitching?  It was just a little gash!  Jeez."  
  
"And it wasn't even on purpose," Bobby said woefully.  
  
There was a crash above them, and a loud thunk.  Bobby winced.  "He finally managed to upend the couch.  I suppose I should go make sure he hasn't screwed anything up.  Don't want him escaping."  
  
"True enough," Dean muttered, watching his companion leave.  Cas vanished to make sure their captive didn't hurt the man, which was pretty unlikely.  
  
There was a knock on the door, followed by an unnecessarily loud crash upstairs and Bobby yelling about broken furniture.  Dean sighed and went to the door, pulling it open.  "What?" he demanded, then blinked.  "Jack?"  
  
"Wow, it's a small world after all!" Captain Jack Harkness said, grinning.  "How are you doing Dean?"  
  
"Eh, the usual.  What are you doing here?" he asked, frowning.  
  
"Actually, my friend here, Sherlock Holmes, meet Dean Winchester.  He's here to see Mr. Bobby Singer.  Apparently they're old friends."  
  
Jack walked in, and Dean stepped out of his path with a shrug.  "He's upstairs-"  _Crash, thud_ , "-Dealing with... stuff."  
  
Sherlock's eyes had widened and lifted to stare at the ceiling.  Jack just kept talking like this was old hat to him.  "Really?  That's kinda loud, though.  He need any help?"  
  
"No, Cas has got it," Dean said, plopping down on the couch.  
  
Jack's eyes lit up.  "Cas?!  He's here?  Oh, that's great!  I sure missed that sexy beast."  
  
"No," Dean snapped very firmly.  "Just no.  He's off-limits!"  
  
"Aww, damn, you got to him first?  Oh well, I'm up for a threesome anytime you want," Jack teased.  
  
Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the blatant sexual flirtation.  Just how close were these two?  He took a moment to eye this new man as he chatted with Jack while they waited.  Sock feet, and his shoes were by the door, meaning he either lived here or had some measure of respect for Singer.  
  
Faded blue jeans, casual; they were old and much used.  Pull on shirt, and a black leather jacket sitting on the couch by his hip.  A bulge in the waistband of his jeans on the right; a knife.  Probably had one other on him somewhere.  Short hair, military style, but grown out somewhat.  Odd worn pendant around his neck, with a new cord.  Unflinching gaze; locked on Jack right now.  Flickers about the room every few minutes; aware of his surroundings to an extreme, almost to the point of paranoia.  
  
Carefully controlled movements; hiding something, from Sherlock.  Tiny twitches at any sound around him; doesn't appear to notice this.  Slightly tanner than average skin; he must be out in the sun near constantly.  A discoloration on the back of his hand, his fingers, his wrist, a few up his arms; scar tissue.  Multiple past injuries, and that was just what Sherlock could see.  
  
Sherlock looked up at the man in the exact instant that he realized he was being studied.  Green eyes narrowed.  "Yo," he said.  "Need something?"  
  
"Curious, actually," Sherlock replied, glancing toward the man's boots and then taking in the state of his jacket.  "What exactly is it that you hunt?"  
  
The man's eyes widened, jaw going slack.  Then he looked at Jack accusingly.  "You!  Stop telling people random shit about me!"  
  
Jack held up his hands in surrender.  "I didn't tell him a thing about you," he replied.  "He's just that good."  
  
"Bullshit," the hunter snapped.  "You mean to tell me that this guy either researched me before even knowing he'd meet me here, or figured that out with a glance?"  
  
"The latter, actually," Sherlock replied smugly, ignoring more screaming from upstairs.  "Your clothing is casual, relaxed, but chosen in such a way that you know it won't slow you down no matter your surroundings.  Meant for quick action as well as fluid reaction.  It's old, but clean.  Taken care of, likely because you're frequently away from home and somehow unable to buy more.  You are always on the road, looking for more 'things' to hunt, evidenced by your suntan.  You are attacked often, according to the numerous scars on your arms, and probably all over your body.  You carry at least two knives, in case you are suddenly caught in a situation that renders you incapable of going for a weapon elsewhere.  
  
"And thus my hypothesis is that you are a hunter of something that is not an animal, and most likely not human.  So what exactly is it that you hunt?"  
  
Dean looked at Jack, who grinned.  "He remind you of anyone?  At least the 'talking ninety miles a minute' thing."  
  
Jack giggled.  "Yup."  
  
Sherlock blinked.  That was twice in a row.  "What?"  
  
Dean shook his head and grinned.  "Alright, I'm sold."  
  
"Sold to whom?  And why would you sell yourself, Dean?" a man demanded, suddenly standing off to Sherlock's left.  
  
The detective jumped, eyes wide.  "How..."  
  
Jack's face lit up like Christmas had come earlier.  "Caaass!  You're looking as gorgeous as ever," he said, sidling closer than necessary to the man.  
  
Cas blinked at him, brow furrowed.  "Jack Harkness.  I am... surprised to see you."  
  
"Captain," Jack corrected mildly.  "Where's Bobby Singer?  My friend here has business with him."  He nodded to Sherlock.  
  
The detective stared at Cas, who turned to stare back, head tilting slightly.  Neither said anything for a moment, then Sherlock frowned.  He couldn't read the man.  At all.  It was like he wasn't even  _human_...  "Are you an alien?"  
  
Dean choked on his sandwich, and Jack stepped over to roughly pat his back in assistance.  Cas blinked, looking confused.  "No, I am an angel of the lord," he replied.  
  
"Ah," Sherlock said, not sure what else to say.  "Does that work for you?"  
  
Cas tilted his head.  "Yes."  
  
"Good."  They both fell silent, the detective feeling a little awkward and Cas just plain confused.  
  
Luckily, that's when Bobby returned from upstairs, looking a little worse for wear and just a mite more irritable than usual.  "That stupid idjit!  I swear, the next time you bring your garbage here, Dean, deal with it yourself!" he railed at the man on the couch.  
  
"I love you too, Bobby," Dean replied, shaking his head.  He jerked a thumb at Jack, shifting out of the Captain's reach, and then nodded toward Sherlock.  "You've got company."  
  
Bobby glanced toward Jack, frowned and looked at Sherlock.  "Oh!  Mr. Holmes.  You're earlier than I expected," he said.  "Well, c'mon then.  Want a beer?"  He walked over toward the doors that separated this room from his 'office'.  
  
"No thank you," Sherlock replied, following him.  He paused, looking back.  "You coming, 'Captain'?"  
  
Jack waved dismissively and grinned.  "Naah, you can fill me in later.  If I do, Dean'll sneak out before I get back out."  
  
Sherlock shrugged and left with Bobby, the door closing behind them.  Cas tilted his head, watching Jack sit beside Dean.  "How long ago?" the Captain asked, suddenly sober.  
  
Dean gave him a startled look.  "I...  How'd you know?" he asked, frowning.  
  
Jack gave him a look.  "No one's mentioned him.  Nobody's even tried to bring him up.  You're all avoiding the topic, like it's a taboo.  Even Cas is pretending he never existed."  His gaze darted to the angel's face, but Cas looked away in shame.  "What happened?"  
  
Dean looked down, frowning and avoiding Jack's gaze.  "It was... Lucifer.  We opened the gate again, and Sam told him yes.  There was a fight between Michael and Lucifer, and Sam gained control long enough to grab Michael and jump into the gate.  It sealed behind them.  They're gone."  
  
Jack closed his eyes, leaning back against the cushions.  "I'm sorry."  
  
Dean nodded, looking down at his hands.  "I tried... for a while... to find a way to fix it.  Try to find a way... to get him home," he murmured, voice cracking oddly.  But Jack kept his eyes closed, and if Dean's eyes watered, no one would notice.  "I even tried to find the Doctor, at one point, thinking that maybe he'd know  _something_... but he was nowhere.  I couldn't find any sort of spell, or power that could go down there and..."  His voice dried up, and he dashed away the single tear.  It was stupid for him to be crying this long after.  
  
Silence fell, and Jack shifted from the couch to kneel in front of Dean, peering up into his eyes.  He didn't mention the moisture.  He placed his hands over Dean's, smiling slightly.  "I'm sorry," he repeated softly.  "I can't promise anything, but... we're looking for the Doctor now.  That's why I have Sherlock.  He's brilliant.  If anyone can find the Doctor, or bring the Doctor to us, it's him.  And maybe the Doctor will know something, right?  But... Dean, you have to realize that it's just as likely that the Doctor won't.  He's pretty amazing, but not even he is all-knowing."  
  
Dean nodded, hope flaring dimly to life in his chest.  He didn't even shove Jack away.  "But, it's possible, right?"  
  
Jack grinned.  "It's possible, yeah."  
  
The office door opened, and Sherlock paused on the threshold.  "I won't ask," he said abruptly, and walked toward the door.  
  
Dean gaped and shoved Jack away quickly.  "It's not what it looks like!" he yelped, causing a laugh to escape the Captain.  "Oh, you!  Get out!"  
  
Jack grinned.  "See you around!"  He waved and followed the detective out the door.  Upstairs, Dean's pet dog broke something again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go, chapter 1. Hope it’s good. It’s a little haphazard. But oh well.
> 
> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	3. Something of a Cheesy Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jokes galore as the team searches for the Doctor and the Doctor talks to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Very frequent hints at various stages of boy love. Also, warnings for Jack, and very, very cheesy jokes.

Meanwhile, in a galaxy far, far away...  
  
A Time Lord walked into a bar.  He strolled along and plopped down onto a comfy bar stool, looking around curiously at the other patrons.  Then he smiled when the bartender wandered over.  
  
"Hi!  I heard you got some new merchandise?  Of the...  _liquid_  variety," the Time Lord said, leaning forward to create one of those conspiratory huddles with the man.  
  
The bartender lifted his head briefly, glancing around all shifty-like, then returned his attention to the Time Lord.  "So what if we do?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
The skinny spaceman narrowed his eyes and set down a slip of purple paper with the consistency and texture of a flashcard.  "One please."  He quirked a smile.  
  
The bartender took the card, rubbed it with a finger, sniffed it and tucked it into something resembling a cash register.  "Coming right up, sir," he said, and ducked beneath the bar.  
  
Feeling pleased with himself, the Doctor sat back and peered around once more at his surroundings.  The place was fashioned like an old Earth Saloon, complete with swinging, stylized half-doors.  There was even a vintage jukebox in one corner, which was odd, seeing as the Doctor knew that this particular bartender didn't even know Earth existed...  
  
"Your drink, sir," the bartender said, interrupting his musings.  
  
The Doctor beamed and accepted the cold cup of thick red liquid, nodding.  "Much obliged!"  And he took a sip of his tomato juice.  Aah, all was right in the world.  Or the universe, as the case may be.  
  
xXx  
  
Back on Earth...  
  
"What is he doing?" Jack asked, tilting his head as he peered upward.  
  
Dean, beside him, tilted his head as well.  "I have no idea.  John, he's your roommate.  What's he doing?"  
  
John, standing slightly to Jack's right and behind, covered his face with his hands.  "I don't know," he said, voice muffled.  "I hardly ever know."  
  
The three stared up at Sherlock, balancing precariously on one of the upper branches of a tree.  Beside him, just kind of floating there, Castiel was making sure he didn't fall.  
  
"Is he building a treehouse?" Dean went on, as if John hadn't said anything.  "It sort of looks like he's building a treehouse."  
  
"He might be," Jack mused softly.  "Is that... John, is your flatmate putting a flying saucer on the treehouse?"  
  
"I don't know," John repeated.  
  
Suddenly, Sherlock slipped and started to flail.  Castiel lunged forward and Sherlock slammed back into him.  The angel pushed the human over so that he was laying lengthwise over the branch, steady again, and then went crashing to the ground.  
  
The trio of watchers dashed forward to see if he was okay, leaning over him as he blinked dazedly.  "Did it hurt?" Jack asked suddenly, and the others all looked at him.  
  
"What?" Castiel asked, baffled.  He wasn't moving to stand, meaning he'd probably broken something and was healing it.  
  
"When you fell from heaven, did it hurt?" Jack asked, straight faced.  
  
Dean slapped a hand over his face, and John groaned and walked away.  Cas blinked.  "I didn't fall from heaven.  I fell from the tree," he replied, confused.  
  
And Jack just grinned.  Above them, Sherlock was peering down, trying to see if the angel was still alive.  "John?  John, is he okay?  Jack?  Dean?  Cas!"  
  
xXx  
  
Somewhere near a star...  
  
The Doctor hummed as he sat in the TARDIS.  He kind of wanted a hamburger.  Maybe he should visit Earth...  Naaahhh, he was waiting for this star to explode!  
  
That's when he heard it.  A loud, resounding  _knock, knock_.  Blinking, the Doctor jumped to his feet and inched toward the door.  He narrowed his eyes.  "... Who's there?"  
  
A pause.  "Me," a voice replied.  
  
The Doctor's eyes widened.  Me?  Wait, there was someone outside the TARDIS?  But he was in the middle of space!  "Me who?"  
  
"Oh...  That's right!"  The voice sounded male, and slightly surprised.  
  
The Doctor blinked, and made a face.  "What's right?" he asked, confused.  
  
"Mihu," the voice said.  
  
"That's what I was asking," the Doctor replied, walking over to stand by the doors.  He could vaguely see some sort of shape there, shaking it's head.  
  
"What's what you want to know?" the figure asked, baffled.  
  
The Doctor wondered if someone was playing a strange joke on him.  "'Me who'?" he repeated slowly, as if the other were daft (they probably were).  
  
"Yes, exactly!" was the exasperated reply.  
  
The Doctor wondered if there'd been something in that tomato juice that he was allergic to.  "Exactly what?"  
  
The figure shook it's head again.  "Well," it said, lowering that head and fussing with something on it's neck.  "I have an Exactlywatt on a chain, if you must know."  
  
"Oh that's so cheesy," the Doctor muttered.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"I said what did you need?  This joke has gotten kind of old."  
  
The figure snickered, and the Doctor's metaphorical lightbulb went off.  "Oh, I just need a lift."  
  
"Well why didn't you say so?"  The Doctor pulled the doors open and peeked out.  There stood a man in something like a very futuristic astronaut suit.  
  
"Hello, Doctor.  Do you mind?" the man said.  
  
The Doctor grinned.  "Not at all, Doctor!  Where's your TARDIS?  Oh, wait, never mind, that girl on Venus five...  oh, rotten luck."  
  
"Yes, yes...  I have to get it back, so if you could..."  
  
"Of course!  Any time.  Well, not any time, for obvious reasons, she's gonna have a fit with the both of us in here, you know..."  
  
xXx  
  
"Don't.  Blink."  
  
Silence.  A sigh.  "Jack, have you been drinking again?"  
  
Cas stared back into the face of Captain Jack Harkness, confused.  "Why can't you blink?" he asked.  
  
Jack just stared at him, eyes watering slightly.  "Oh, I looked in his eyes!"  He stumbled back, beer sloshing a little.  
  
John extricated the beer from his hand and lead him to sit on Bobby's couch.  "Let's just cut you off, shall we?  Don't want you streaking around the neighborhood again..."  
  
"Oh, c'mon, that was once,  _once_!" Jack protested, looking heartbroken.  
  
John just shook his head and contemplated a daycare for grown men.  He put the beer in the fridge in the kitchen and wandered over to Sherlock, whom was sketching something on a sheet of printer paper.  "What are you doing?"  
  
"Elementary, my dear Watson," Sherlock said, flashing him a brief grin.  Then he started to babble about radio waves and psychic paper, and John stopped listening.  
  
He glanced over at Jack to find him with another beer in his hand.  "Oy!  What are you doing?!"  
  
Jack jumped and looked over at him like a deer caught in the headlights.  Suddenly, he waved his hand, slowly, between their faces.  "This is not the beer you're looking for," he said.  
  
"You lush," John groaned, and took the beer away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter this time, but that’s cause it’s just filler. Lol. Next chapter will be less funny, but I thought I’d give you guys a laugh, and I was inspired anyway.
> 
> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	4. Something of a Backwards Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor is finally found, accompanied by voluptuous blonde beauty River Song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Very frequent hints at various stages of boy/girl/het love. Also, warnings for Jack. This chapter has hints at DoctorxRiver, CasxDean, SherlockxJohn, JackxDean, etc
> 
> Just a note, for you as the reader to keep in mind. This chapter was written out of order. Sorry if it confuses, but it was too much fun to pass up. I have added time locators to help keep you on track, though, so hopefully it won't be too confusing. Also, I KNOW they don't specify what Jack needed the Doctor for in this chapter. Don't worry. I'll be getting to that next chapter.
> 
> R&R~

The group of six waited a while before climbing down from the branches of the tree, and then they wandered into the house.  They were halfway through three large pepperoni pizzas and two big bottles of cola when there was a jaunty knock on the door.  
  
Jack and Dean froze, exchanged looks and dashed for the door.  Dean got there first and jerked it open.  "Doctor!" they chorused, grins spreading across their faces.  
  
The Doctor, standing on the doorstep with his curvaceous blonde companion, grinned back at them.  "Dean!  How are you?" he asked, hugging Dean briefly.  He gave Jack a glance.  "You haven't been bothering this poor boy, have you old man?" he demanded.  
  
"Aww, nah!" Jack said as they moved out of the way.  "And  _River_!  Looking as beautiful as always, I see."  
  
"Aww, thanks, Jack.  You're so sweet," she teased back.  
  
" _No_ ," the Doctor said so firmly that Jack immediately pouted.  
  
"You have a different face, Doctor," Dean said, grinning.  "Lucky you I've seen pictures."  
  
Jack closed the door behind their new guests, beaming.  "We have pizza!  And soda.  And beer, if you fancy."  
  
"Great!" the Doctor said, smiling and following them into the other room.  He perked up at the sight of the familiar angel on the couch.  "Castiel!  How are you doing, old fellow?  Well, I hope?"  
  
Cas tilted his head.  "I am fine, Doctor.  It is pleasant to see you again."  
  
The Doctor nodded.  "Good to see you too!  And there are new faces, I see.  Who is 'SH'?"  
  
Sherlock shrugged.  "That would be me.  Sherlock Holmes, Doctor.  It's a pleasure to get to finally meet you in person."  
  
The Doctor stepped forward and shook the detective's hand.  "You, Mr. Holmes, are  _brilliant_ ," he congratulated, retrieving his hand to gesture wildly.  "Psychically hot wiring a phone to send a message across the universe?  Masterfully done, Mr. Holmes.  Masterfully done."  
  
Sherlock smiled, liking this man already.  "I'm pleased to be of service, and relieved that it  _worked_.  I was a bit ill-informed on the details..."  He shot Jack a look, which the Doctor echoed with the wise patience of one that is very old.  
  
Then the Doctor shook his head and turned his attention toward Bobby and John.  "And who are these fine fellows?" he asked, beaming.  
  
The other doctor smiled.  "I'm, er, John Watson..."  
  
" _Doctor_  John Watson," Jack inserted with a grin.  
  
The Doctor's beam brightened.  "Ooh,  _doctor_ , I love other doctors!  It's so fun, and the puns never get old!"  
  
John shifted uncomfortably, inching closer to his flatmate.  "Er, right.  Okay, I guess that's... fine."  
  
The Doctor nodded and looked at Bobby.  "And you?"  
  
"Bobby Singer.  Sherlock got the psychic paper from me," the man replied gruffly, eying the Doctor warily.  
  
"Wonderful," the Doctor chirped sincerely, and took a glance around.  He paused, eyes sweeping along more slowly, before they came to rest on Dean.  Smiling expectantly, he gestured.  "Is Sam upstairs?  Or is he out?"  
  
The sudden transformation from delighted to sober swept over Dean so quickly that the Doctor almost missed it.  His smile dropped.  "Where is he?" he asked, but his eyes said he already knew the answer.  
  
"He's gone," Dean said stiffly, looking away.  "I'd rather not talk about it, right now.  Later, though, is fine.  If you can."  
  
The Doctor nodded slowly, face saddened.  "I'm sorry, Dean.  I know how much you cared about him."  
  
"Yeah," Dean agreed, still not meeting his gaze.  
  
"Well, who is the 'he' I have come to talk to?"  
  
xXx  
  
As the Doctor sat down with Jack, Sherlock, Bobby and Dean, with John going off to fetch some tea from the kitchen, River was growing bored.  She wasn't really a 'sit down and talk' type of person.  She was a 'talk while we rush excitedly about like chickens with our heads cut off' sort.  
  
This, clearly, was not the case, despite the unusual number of people.  So she had nothing to really do but glance around.  So when the angel, Cas, whom she'd heard of from the Doctor in passing once or twice, suddenly started to sneak away...  Well, who was she but the person to follow?  
  
Just outside of the house, he had stopped, and when she closed the door soundlessly behind her, he held a finger up to his lips in a shushing gesture.  
  
'Oh that's so cute,' she mouthed, though he wasn't looking at her.  She followed him down the steps, then frowned when he suddenly vanished.  Off to her right, she heard a pained scream.  Her instincts cut in and she took off.  
  
She found Cas surrounded by men with two dead at his feet, standing amongst the various piles of metal and vehicles.  "Hey, angel-face, what's going on?" she asked, even as she saw two men turn toward her, their eyes black.  
  
Cas' eyes narrowed.  "Demons," he replied angrily.  
  
xXx  
  
Two hours previously...  
  
The Doctor dashed through the dense foliage of a rainforest, River running slightly behind him.  Their hands were clasped, fingers intertwined.  
  
She glanced back, and dragged him abruptly to the forest floor, purposely toppling on top of him.  "Sweety, you really should watch what you're doing in a public place," she teased as lazer blasts fired over their heads.  
  
The Doctor smirked.  "Luckily for me, this isn't such a public place," he retorted, stole a kiss and dragged her to her feet again.  And they raced on.  
  
"How much further!" she yelled, as he dragged her around the massive roots of a tree, and through another half-fallen one.  
  
"Ohhh, shouldn't be much furth-ER!" he yelped, when she shoved him over.  "I think."  
  
"You think?  You  _think_?  Don't tell me you're  _lost_!" she said, brows arching sharply on her forehead.  
  
He gasped.  " _No_!"  A pause.  "Okay, well, yes, but finding the TARDIS is always a simple matter."  
  
" _Simple_ , he says," she groaned, and scrambled to her feet.  They still hadn't released their mutual grip, for which she was glad.  She hadn't seen him in a while.  
  
"Don't worry, when have I ever given you cause to worry?" the blond asked innocently.  
  
"Every single time I see you, sweetheart," she retorted, and they went on.  
  
A few minutes passed before he said anything else.  "I don't know why they're so angry.  It was just a plant.  The rainforest is full of them!"  
  
"It was a very rare plant," River retorted.  They ducked in tandem beneath another lazer blast.  "And you  _stepped_  on it."  
  
"I didn't even notice it!" he protested.  "There was no marker, and no way to tell!  And besides, it wasn't even a particularly fascinating plant, either.  Just bamboo."  
  
"Just- oh, Doctor, really," she moaned, and jerked him into a large hollow in the massive roots of a tree.  
  
He stole a brief kiss, followed by a grin, and dragged her out of the hollow again.  "I remembered!  The TARDIS isn't far from here," he said smugly.  "Told you it was simple."  
  
River rolled her eyes.  Here they were, being chased by angry, overly religious natives, and he thought he had time to be funny.  Well, he usually did, but still.  "You're impossible."  
  
"You love it," he retorted, and started running perpendicular to the line they'd been going.  "This way!"  
  
They dashed along the undergrowth, frequently dodging fire, and very shortly stumbled upon a small clearing containing the TARDIS.  The Doctor whipped out his key, shoved it in the lock and they tumbled in, River slamming the door shut behind them.  
  
For a moment, they lay in a heap on the floor, catching their breath.  Then they locked gazes and burst into laughter.  "Oooh, that was brilliant," the Doctor chortled, getting up and going over to start a leisurely journey through the stars.  He wasn't quite ready to give up his woman yet.  
  
River got up and came over to help him, looking pleased with herself.  "Well, I got the sample, at least," she said with a sigh.  "That's something."  
  
The Doctor nodded, smiling a touch breathlessly.  "Yes, yes it is," he agreed, reaching into his coat pocket.  He tugged out the psychic paper.  "That's odd.  It's warmer than it should be," he mused.  
  
"Mm?  What is it?  A message?" River asked curiously, glancing across the TARDIS console at him.  
  
He flipped it open and glanced over it, then grinned and handed it over.  She blinked down at it.  The slightly psychic paper had a picture on it, which was unusual enough on it's own.  But what was really interesting was that it was a picture of a torn slip of paper containing a message.  
  
" _He needs your help, SH_ ," she read aloud.  "Who is 'he'?"  She looked up at her love.  
  
He quirked a grin.  "Shall we find out?"  
  
"Oh, we shall," she said brightly.  
  
And he set the TARDIS to follow the psychic trail back to Earth.  
  
xXx  
  
Meanwhile....  
  
"It's clearly not a treehouse," John mused.  In fact, the boards that Sherlock had painstakingly nailed to several different branches of the tree were closer to seats than any other surface.  And for some reason, there were seats for all of them.  
  
"Shush, concentrate," Sherlock reprimanded for probably the fifth time.  "You are  _certain_  that the psychic energy  _does_  exist, and the accumulation of a large quantity of it will heighten the sending range?"  This was directed toward Jack, who sat right beside him, peering at the piece of scratch paper he was holding.  
  
Jack nodded, eying the detective curiously.  "What exactly is it you're  _doing_ , though?"  
  
Sherlock rolled his eyes.  "It's obvious," he muttered.  "By focusing the psychic energy of an intelligence like my own, combined with that of the lot of you, it condenses the energy into one body, heightening the sending rang of my contact device- in this case, Dean's cell phone, and thrusts the message into the area around us.  The message would then, of course, bounce back and forth off of the satellites in orbit...  _except_ , according to the Doctor's own theory when the psychic energy of a concentrated mass - or one singular mind, but there isn't a being alive with that sort of power - gives it a direction and destination to go in.  
  
"In this case, the direction would be vague; "beyond the satellites' reach", and the destination would be specific; "the Doctor's Psychic Paper".   Understand?"  He didn't wait for Jack to deny or confirm the point.  "Now, all of you, I want you to focus with all of your mind on feeding that psychic energy to me; I will send it.  Understand?  Focus as hard as you can, like your lives depend on it!  Now!"  
  
He scribbled something down on a sheet of paper and took a picture of that paper with Dean's phone.  Then he tapped in a number, paused a beat to close his eyes and focus himself, and hit send.  
  
xXx  
  
The present...  
  
"Demons," Cas replied angrily.  
  
"Oh, that would explain things," River said, the adrenalin pumping as she ducked and rolled away from the attempted lunge from one of them.  "Demons exist?"  Her fingers grabbed at the weapon usually on her hip- "Oh hell, I left it on the TARDIS," she muttered.  
  
"Yes, they exist," Cas snapped, grabbing two different demons by their foreheads, slamming their heads together and pausing.  Light burst from their eyes, ears, noses and mouths, and he dropped them to the ground.  They didn't get up.  
  
"How do I kill them?" she demanded, and delivered a side-kick to the chest of a much larger man, sending him stumbling back into the body of one of his companions.  
  
Cas didn't answer, currently in a scuffle with three different men.  Two of them grabbed him as he struggled while the other stole what looked like some sort of rod from his own jacket.  River rolled her eyes and spun, back-kicking the guy with the rod across the immediate clearing in the junk heap.  Cas managed to get out of the grasp of the other two and felled one of them.  
  
"You don't.  Only I can kill them.  The most you can do is exorcise them," the angel replied, frowning.  "Hurting them with mortal weapons will do nothing."  
  
"What if I cut off their heads?" River asked innocently.  
  
He cast her a surprised look.  "... I'm not sure.  I've never tried it before."  
  
Before she could reply, two things happened.  One, she was grabbed from behind by two demons.  Two, Dean jumped into the fray out of nowhere, burying a strange-looking knife to the hilt in a demon's stomach.  The same light thing happened to him, and he collapsed.  
  
Bullet fire alerted the others of back up, and soon enough, the demons fled.  River collapsed against a car hood, gasping for breath.  "Damn...  What was that about mortal weapons?" she demanded of the angel.  
  
Cas shifted uncomfortably under her glare.  "That is not a mortal weapon.  It was created specifically to kill demons," he replied.  "There is only one like it in the world, and it belongs to Dean."  
  
Dean twirled the knife.  "You can have a look, if you'd like?"  He offered it to her.  
  
River accepted it, eying it.  "Oooh, I've seen this before," she said excitedly.  "Year 4033, in a museum.  It was labeled as an ancient sacrificial knife."  She handed it back.  "Guess not."  
  
Dean chuckled.  "Nope, this baby's made to kill demons, just like Cas said.  Got it from a psychotic bitch that pretended to be a friend for a while."  He lowered his hand as Bobby, Jack and the Doctor jogged into view.  "Hey guys.  Thanks for the cover, Bobby."  
  
"No problem, kid," Bobby said.  
  
The Doctor shook his head, looking around at the bodies in distaste.  "Is there absolutely no way to get rid of the demons without killing people?" he demanded irritably, kneeling beside a fallen woman and closing her eyes.  "So much death..."  
  
River looked down.  "I'm sorry, sweety.  This was... well, we were trying to save our own lives..."  
  
"Killing them was necessary," Cas said, tilting his head to eye the Doctor curiously.  "Though Dean and-"  He stopped, glancing Dean's way.  "Such concerns have been voiced before," he finally murmured.  
  
"You should  _listen_  to them!" the Doctor scolded, visibly upset.  "All this death isn't necessary!"  
  
Cas frowned at the Doctor.  "They are in heaven now.  They will know no better happiness than that," he said, bemused.  
  
"With your lot in charge?" the Doctor asked, crossing his arms.  "I'm surprised."  
  
Cas stiffened, glaring at the Doctor, and vanished.  Dean cursed.  "Thanks, Doctor, you really showed him," he snapped, and left for the house.  
  
The Doctor sighed, moving toward another dead, closing the eyes again.  Bobby crouched beside him, hand on his shoulder.  "I don't know you very well... but I think I know a little of how you feel.  But please understand that the only things Cas has known before he met Dean was what you don't like.  He doesn't know better.  He's like a child."  
  
The Doctor frowned, then gave Bobby a slight smile.  "I know.  You're right.  I'll apologize when Cas comes back."  
  
"Good," Bobby said, straightening.  "You boys should stop worrying me like this.  It ain't good for my health, or something."  He shook his head and left.  
  
Jack coughed.  "I'll go get a shovel..."  
  
"We'll burn the bodies," the Doctor said.  "Get wood."  
  
"Oh... right," Jack agreed, and left them alone to fall into a silence more verbal than words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	5. Something of a Perversion of Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean begs the Doctor to find Sam, and Jack, Sherlock, Cas and the Doctor discover hidden elements to their unraveling mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Perverted jokes, tempers, angst, general DW-verse confusion

Dean and the Doctor stood on the porch, one sipping a beer, the other ginger ale.  "It's too bad he didn't have any tomato juice," the Doctor rambled.  "I really like tomato juice.  It gives me this warm, fuzzy feeling.  Like home, or...  New new new New York."  
  
Dean gave him an odd look, knowing he was avoiding the topic at hand but unwilling to call him out on it.  "New new New York?" he asked bemusedly.  
  
The alien man shook his head.  "No.  New new new New York," he said.  "Forth Earthling-settled planet several million years from now, New new new Earth.  They're good about keeping the names of cities and countries."  He smiled, but quickly sobered.  "I can't help you."  
  
Dean almost missed the soft answer.  "He's not really dead," he protested half-heartedly.  After all, he'd expected the answer.  "It can wait until you're done dealing with Jack's robot problem."  
  
"Cybermen, and it's only a suspicion," the Doctor corrected without heat.  "I'm so sorry, Dean.  It breaks my heart that Sam went through so much, when he was such an amazing man.  He was very brave, and very kind to do what he did for you, and the world.  And it's not like I  _can't_... but I won't do it.  I'm so very sorry."  
  
"Why not?" Dean demanded, riling with the ease of years of practice.  "Why won't you help him?  He helped you, with those androids!  He's helped the world, he stopped a fucking  _apocalypse_ , Doctor!  He's saved innocent lives many times over, risked his life, nearly  _died_  for this  _God-forsaken planet_ \- why not, Doctor?  WHY NOT?!"  
  
The Doctor met his gaze with a heart-broken calm.  "I'm sorry, Dean.  I really am.  But you have  _no_  idea what kind of trouble I could cause by going there and getting him.  There's no chance he's even still in one piece-"  
  
"Don't you think I know that?" the Winchester demanded.  "It doesn't matter!  At least if he dies and goes to heaven or whatever, it'll be better than that place!"  
  
"Would it?" the Doctor asked quietly.  "And what about you?  What about this place?  I could put the Earth in danger just by being in that place myself.  Do you know what sort of power Lucifer would have if he could possess me?  It's best to-"  
  
"To  _what_?" Dean hissed, taking a step toward the Doctor, who didn't even flinch.  "To  _leave_  Sammy there?  Doctor, I've  _been_  to Hell, I remember what hell is like, and that place where Sam is, it's no different.  Why won't you help him?  Save him,  _please_."  
  
The Doctor swallowed, closing his eyes.  "I'm sorry, Dean.  I'm so sorry," he whispered, a repetition that the man before him didn't want to hear.  
  
"Do it."  The click of a gun.  Desperation in Dean's voice.  
  
The Doctor opened his eyes and stared at Dean sadly.  "If shooting me will help you, then do it, Dean.  But I won't, I  _can't_  bring Sam back."  
  
A moment of tense silence passed before Dean slowly lowered the gun.  "Why?  I don't understand."  
  
"I already told you."  The Doctor sighed.  He thought maybe he should cry for these tortured souls... but he couldn't bring himself to shed those tears.  Sam deserved better than that.  
  
Dean sighed and turned away, staring out over the veritable jungle of vehicles that made up Bobby's "business".  "I want my baby brother back, Doctor.  Is there something wrong with trying?"  He didn't wait for the Doctor to answer, and the Doctor didn't even try to.  
  
"He told me to go... live an apple pie life, you know.  He wanted me to go on and live with Lisa and Ben.  And I tried.  I tried so hard.  I clung to them like I was afraid.  And I was.  Every time I turned around, I was afraid something would grab Ben, or kill Lisa.  I was terrified."  
  
The Doctor hesitated, but then stepped up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.  Dean sighed and sagged slightly.  "Eventually I couldn't take it anymore.  I packed up, told her what was up and left.  Started searching again, for any way to get Sammy back that I could.  When that fell through, I started taking on jobs again."  
  
The Doctor gave his shoulder a squeeze.  "Would you like to come with me, after this Cybermen business?" he asked.  "I can't bring Sam back, but... maybe I can help you cope.  Because clearly you haven't let yourself do that yet."  
  
Dean hesitated, turning to look at the Doctor.  "What about Cas?"  
  
The Doctor beamed.  "If he wants, he's welcome as well."  He turned slightly, gaze slanting toward the shadows.  "Of course, that's up to him."  
  
Cas stepped into sight, face expressionless.  "Are you so sure you want an angel with you?"  
  
The Doctor winced.  "Ow, I deserved that..."  He turned toward Cas.  "I'm sorry about what I said, Cas.  That was very unfair to you, and I know you try your hardest to help Dean however you can."  
  
Cas frowned faintly, eying the Doctor.  "You are forgiven," he relented at last.  
  
The Doctor beamed.  "And you're welcome to come with us!"  
  
"I will think about it," was the cryptic reply.  
  
xXx  
  
Three days later...  
  
 _Samuel Winchester_  
May 2, 1983 - May 13, 2008  
"The Guy that Saved the World- and No one Even Knew"  
  
Dean read the words three or four times before he realized what he was doing.  The Doctor was off with Jack, Sherlock and John, gone back to England to deal with the Cybermen, and Dean...  He'd forced himself to finally come see this.  
  
Bobby and a hunter friend of his had gotten together and made it, buying the burial plot, the funeral, everything.  Dean hadn't attended, and the casket was empty anyway.  
  
"My... last hope," Dean said, forcing himself to speak.  He had to tell Sam, even though he knew Sam couldn't hear a word of it.  "The Doctor.  He... won't save you.  And maybe that's for the best, right?  I mean... maybe..."  He stopped and laughed hoarsely.  "Who am I kidding?  Of course it's not.  You're down there, suffering, because I can't save you.  I'm sorry, Sammy.  I tried.  I tried for  _so_  long...  But I guess I'm not much of a big brother, huh?"  
  
"For what it's worth, I think you're a delightful big brother, sweetheart."  
  
Dean jumped and turned, surprised to find the gorgeous woman that the Doctor had come with.  He'd... sort of left without her, but she hadn't appeared to notice yet.  Or she didn't care.  "Oh, uh, River.  I didn't... hear you come up."  
  
She smiled.  "I have ninja training," she replied with a teasing wink.  
  
He gave her a tense smile.  "Oh, right."  
  
River came up to stand next to him, then fiddled in her pocket and withdrew a gun.  "Lazer settings... may I?"  
  
Bemused, Dean nodded, and watched her kneel beside Sammy's grave.  She carved a few symbols into the stone before leaning back to put the gun away.  "It's Time Lord.  A burial rite, detailing peace in the after life."  
  
"Thank you," he said, holding a hand out to help her up.  
  
She took it and smiled, then gave him a hug.  "Any time, sweety."  She glanced toward the heavens as a distant rumble reached them.  "Looks like rain.  Let's get back, hm?"  
  
Dean nodded.  "Yeah, okay."  
  
She grabbed his arm and hooked her's through it, tugging him into a walk.  "So what do you lads do for fun around here?"  
  
"Uh, pick up chicks at a bar?" he said, blinking.  
  
"Meh, bars are boring," she said.  "I always win the fights.  Only one I've  _ever_  lost to was the Doctor."  
  
"You got into a bar fight with the Doctor?" he asked skeptically.  
  
"Technically... no."  She smirked.  "But we fought plenty... and had  _plenty_  of make up sex."  
  
"Augh," he moaned.  
  
xXx  
  
"It's... a robot..."  
  
"No shit, Sherlock," Jack retorted, in a bit of a bad mood.  
  
When they had returned to London, they had immediately gone to the Torchwood headquarters in town, only to find the place decimated and Ianto unconscious underneath a rigging.  Luckily, no one had died, but Ianto was suffering from short term amnesia from hitting his head.  He couldn't remember anything that had happened in the past week, so he was basically no help with investigation.  
  
Not only that, but the cameras were taken out during the destruction, and the computer fried.  Any footage that had been caught on tape was lost.  The Doctor had remarked that it was almost  _planned_ , and if they were truly dealing with Cybermen, then it probably was.  
  
They had left Jack's subordinates to the cleaning up and had gone off after a witness report.  When they got to the woman's house, she was unconscious, but her webcam had been on - she had been speaking with her sister - and they were able to view the occurrence.  Now they were watching the video of a Cyberman walking in and grabbing the woman by the throat.  
  
It suddenly dropped her and turned.  A moment's hesitation, and then it walked off down the hall.  A woman suddenly appeared from out of the view of the camera.  
  
"Woah, that's new," Jack said, blinking.  
  
Creepily, her head turned, eyes looking right into the Doctor's, and she smirked.  "I can't  _wait_  to meet  _you_ , you gorgeous man!"  She giggled and literally vanished right before them.  
  
The Doctor blinked.  "What...?"  
  
"Ah, a demon."  
  
Sherlock and Jack jumped, turning to see that Cas was standing there behind them, watching over their shoulders.  The Doctor turned and smiled.  "Hello, Castiel!  Did you need something?"  
  
"John is impatient for your return to the apartment.  He has news of some sort," Cas replied, tilting his head.  "And Dean says that River is uncontrollable."  He actually frowned at this, irritated.  
  
The Doctor snickered.  "She always is," he said fondly.  "Alright, Cas.  I'll return to make her behave soon."  
  
"I will meet you in one hour at the apartment of John's," he said, and disappeared.  
  
Sherlock frowned slightly, noting that Cas seemed awfully...  _fond_  of John...  Then he shook the thought away as irrational.  Cas was an  _angel_ , for God's sake.  Nothing would happen!  
  
"You know, if you pout for too long, your face will stick that way," Jack said cheerfully.  "And then I might cry."  
  
The consulting detective blinked and gave Jack a bemused look.  "Why would you cry?"  
  
"Well, because-"  
  
"Jack,  _no_ ," the Doctor said, closing the video file and straightening.  
  
Jack scoffed.  "Can't I have an innocent conversation with anyone?"  
  
The Doctor's brows lifted at the use of the word 'innocent', to which Jack pulled out the puppy dog look.  It didn't work, so he pouted and shook his head.  "You're downright  _cruel_ , Doctor!"  
  
The lightbulb finally blinked on and Sherlock recoiled.  "I- I am  _not_  interested in you!" he stammered.  
  
Jack giggled.  "Your pants say otherwise."  
  
" _Jack_!" the Doctor scolded, face faintly red.  "That was  _crude_!"  
  
"You're right...  I'm sorry," Jack said, looking completely uncontrite.  
  
The Doctor sighed.  "Let's go," he said, giving up.  For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	6. Something of a Major Plot Development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor learns a few new facts, while Gwen Cooper is approached for reasons unknown by a being thought dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Plot bit explosion! Cas, rampant character resurrection, PLOT, introduction of the Torchwood element. (Yes, this is now a SuperWhoTorLock)
> 
> Uhg, I know, it's been forever. But here's an update, finally!

"So let me get this straight," Dean said, his voice tiny and filtered through the computer speakers.  "You're telling me the incident is somehow supernatural related, so you want me and Bobby to fly to London and help you deal with it?"  He frowned at them.  
  
The Doctor, whom had boosted the Skype call with his sonic screwdriver, nodded.  "Yes!  I can come pick you up, of course.  Free of charge!"  
  
Dean grimaced.  "But to  _London_?" he asked, looking somewhat uncomfortable with the thought.  
  
"Come now, Dean, you're going to have to get used to it," the Doctor pointed out.  "After all, our trip..."  
  
Dean grimaced.  "Augh.  You're right," he muttered, annoyed.  "Alright, alright.  Fine.  I'll be ready in an hour."  
  
"Great!" the Doctor chirped, and closed the call.  
  
xXx  
  
The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and jogged over to Bobby's house, jerking open the door.  "I'm here!"  No answer.  
  
He found the note after a few minutes of searching.  ' _You're a day late, Doctor.  Try again._ '  
  
"Whoops."  
  
He hurried back to the TARDIS.  
  
xXx  
  
When the TARDIS landed again, the Doctor was frowning.  He thumped the monitor.  "What is your deal?" he demanded, and thumped it again.  "We shouldn't be in Melbourne Florida!"  
  
He shook his head and jogged to the doors, opening one and peering out it.  He blinked.  The TARDIS was in an alleyway across from a pub, and a very familiar man was approaching it.  "No," the Doctor whispered, paling.  "No, no, no no no!"  He slammed the doors shut and ran back to the console, checking the date again.  One day after he was supposed to meet Dean.  Melbourne Florida.  Ten PM.  
  
There was a loud rapping on the door, and the Doctor looked toward it worriedly, hearts thumping.  "No!" he yelled.  "This isn't possible!"  
  
"Doctor?" the male called back.  "Doctor, let me in!"  
  
"NO!"  The Doctor shook his head and quickly started the TARDIS again... leaving Sam Winchester behind.  
  
xXx  
  
 _The previous day..._  
  
Dean looked up as the TARDIS materialized in front of him.  For a minute, nothing happened.  The Doctor didn't pop out, yelling about whatever it was he wanted to yell about.  Frowning, Dean rapped his knuckles on the wooden door.  
  
A beat of silence followed, and then the door was jerked open.  "DEANY BOY!" the Doctor greeted loudly, and gave him a hug.  
  
Dean's eyes were wide as the Doctor then skipped passed him to go greet his wife.  ".... what?"  
  
"He appears to be very happy to see you both."  
  
Dean jumped and barely refrained from smacking the angel suddenly standing beside him.  "Cas!  Would you  _warn_  me?!" he demanded.  It wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last, but he could hope.  
  
Castiel blinked at him.  "I apologize, Dean."  
  
Dean scowled.  "Yeah, yeah."  
  
And then Cas vanished, leaving behind a surprised Dean.  "Cas?  Cas!"  
  
The Doctor and River hurried over.  "What's wrong?" River asked, looking worried.  
  
"Cas!  He was just here, and then- well he's gone!" Dean said, also worried.  "He usually tells me where he's going!"  
  
The Doctor frowned.  "I'm sure he'll be fine," he said, patting Dean's shoulder.  "He's quite the sturdy fellow, right?"  
  
Dean had to concede the point.  But he was still worried.  
  
xXx  
  
Cas knew what happened.  Someone else, older, stronger, had transported him from point a to point b.  But he wasn't sure where point b was, except that they were in space, standing on an asteroid.  And he couldn't feel Dean anymore...  
  
"Where am I?" he demanded, turning to look at the other being.  "Gabriel!"  
  
Gabriel grinned.  "Surprise," he said, amused.  His human vessel was nowhere in sight, which made sense.  "Guess I'm not so dead after all, right?"  
  
"But..."  Castiel shook his head.  "We saw you die.  The host took note of it!" he protested, aghast.  
  
Gabriel shrugged and fake yawned.  "Boring.  You guys are boring.  Honestly, I'm too damn good for that!" he said, and smirked.  
  
Castiel shook his head again, bewildered.  "I can never seem to understand you."  
  
"Mm.  I like to think of that as a skill.  I'm like a ninja," Gabriel replied, striking a pose.  
  
Cas just blinked at him, and he rolled his eyes.  "Honestly, can't you laugh?"  
  
"I can laugh," Cas replied.  "That was not funny."  
  
Gabriel gasped and clutched at his heart, swaying.  "I... I'm seeing stars!"  
  
For half a second, Cas was alarmed.  He took a step.  Stopped.  "We're surrounded by them," he said grumpily.  
  
Gabe snickered.  "I know.  Great, isn't it?"  
  
"Would you just tell me what you want so I can go back?" Cas replied, ignoring his comment.  
  
"Man, you should get that stick out of your ass, Castiel," Gabe told him bluntly.  When Cas just glared, he rolled his eyes and waved a hand.  "Fine, fine.  Well, clearly, I didn't bring you here just to play catch up," he said.  
  
"I assumed as much," Cas replied, shrugging.  "What is it?"  
  
"Sam's out of the cage, somehow.  But he's not exactly..."  Gabriel frowned.  "Well, whole.  His body's all there, but not his soul."  He shook his head.  "He's been going ape-shit on monsters all over the place, for no apparent reason.  I don't know who, or what, brought him back... but they didn't do it out of the kindness of their little black hearts.  Sam's real gone, and I'm not talking 'he's evil so we should smite him so his evil doesn't spread' gone.  I'm talking 'he doesn't feel a goddamn thing so killing him for him being evil would be pointless' gone."  
  
Cas eyed his brother when Gabe trailed off.  "What else?" he demanded.  There was more to it, there had to be.  
  
"He doesn't stop at evil creatures," Gabe admitted reluctantly.  "He massacred that vegetarian vampire coven without a thought.  And...  Cas, he's killed angels.  Three."  
  
Cas paled.  "No," he whispered, and Gabe just nodded grimly.  "Why hasn't he been  _stopped_?"  
  
"We can't track him.  No soul, no presence," Gabe replied, shrugging helplessly.  "We think he might come after you soon.  I thought we should warn you."  
  
"We?" Cas echoed, confused.  Gabe wasn't in league with the others... right?  
  
"Good luck, Castiel," Gabriel said.  "And keep your eyes open."  He vanished with a flutter of wings.  
  
Cas frowned.  He had a lot to think about, before he returned to Dean.  
  
xXx  
  
Sherlock and John had a moment to breathe, between Jack going back to Torchwood for whatever it was he needed, and the Doctor and Cas leaving to collect the Americans.  The two sat down in their living room.  
  
Silence settled.  A very awkward, pregnant sentence.  John sneezed.  Ten minutes later, Sherlock cleared his throat and shifted.  
  
They were both thinking about the last time they'd actually been alone in their flat.  
  
"So, I was thinking," John began, turning to face Sherlock.  
  
"About the other day," Sherlock said at the same time, turning to face John.  
  
They both stopped, John gave a nervous laugh.  Sherlock chuckled softly.  They turned back and lapsed into silence again.  
  
John tried again.  "Were you about to-"  
  
"Yeah, I think so," Sherlock replied awkwardly.  
  
John nodded.  "Ah, okay."  Another few minutes of silence.  "Should we-"  
  
"Maybe not..."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"... well, this has been a nice chat," John said after a beat, getting up.  
  
Sherlock rose too.  "Yes, very nice.  I should probably go tell Ms. Hudson we're back from America..."  
  
"Yes, good idea."  
  
"Have a nice day."  
  
"Yes, see you later."  
  
They parted ways.  Sherlock headed downstairs, John toward his room.  Both of them were still thinking about that almost kiss.  
  
xXx  
  
"Hey pretty lady."  
  
Blinking, Gwen Cooper turned, on her way to the entrance of Torchwood.  "Pardon?  Are you talking to me?" she asked, a little off-balance by the guy's grin.  
  
"Yes, I am.  My name's Gabe.  It's nice to meet you," he said, stepping forward and offering her his hand.  "I represent a special supernatural group, and I would definitely like to talk to you about it."  
  
Gwen's brows furrowed.  "Supernatural?" she asked.  Like aliens?  
  
"Just like aliens," he agreed.  
  
She paled.  He'd just read her mind!  
  
"What can I say?  I'm an angel.  We do that."  He reached down and took her hand, giving it a shake.  "This, Miss Cooper, is less of a request and more of a demand.  If you don't meet me when and where I say, I will find you.  You can't hide, not even in your secret base."  He released her hand.  "But don't worry!  You definitely won't regret it."  
  
Before she could say a word, he vanished, the only sound like flapping wings.  Heart thumping in her chest, she hurried into Torchwood, relieved to see Tosh behind the monitor.  "Tosh!  Can you look up the security feed right in front of the entrance?"  
  
She blinked, looking at her.  "What?  Why?"  
  
"Just do it!  For the last maybe eight minutes."  
  
Bemused, Tosh did as she was asked.  However, just as Gwen reached the entrance, the camera fuzzed out, becoming static, until several minutes later.  On camera, she stood there for a moment, staring at the door, before rushing inside.  
  
"The heck?" Tosh said, surprised.  She replayed it, with the same result.  "Gwen, what happened?"  
  
"A..."  She stopped.  
  
 _Just our secret_ , a voice whispered in her ear.  
  
"I got a phone call," Gwen said, frowning.  "From my mum.  I thought I saw something while I was on the phone with her..."  
  
"I'll see if I can find anything out," Tosh said with a sigh.  
  
Gwen nodded, turning around.  "I just remembered I have something to do," she said, and quickly escaped.  She had a brunch date with an angel.  
  
Tosh whipped around, opening her mouth to call out to her coworker, but frowned as the door shut behind her.  Gwen didn't know about Ianto and the attack yet!  "Well, crap..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	7. Something of a Rampage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean throws a tantrum, Gwen meets the angel on her shoulder, and Sam makes it clear that he has bad decision making skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Dean raging about secrets, Gabe, etc. You know the drill.

The TARDIS landed with its normal loud noises, and River hopped up from her perch on the stairs.  "Thank you, sweety," she said, giving the Doctor a kiss.  "Sorry I can't help out more."  
  
"Oh, I know how it is.  I'll see you in a week," the Doctor replied, smiling.  
  
"Can't wait," she said with a saucy wink.  She dashed over to Cas and gave him a big hug.  "You take care, there, alright sweetheart?"  
  
He blinked and nodded.  "I will," he agreed, bemused.  
  
"Good!"  And she turned to Dean, giving him a big kiss on the cheek.  "You too, sweety.  And take care of that angel, you hear?  I hear they're difficult to deal with, and he's quite a find."  
  
Dean frowned and wiped the wet off his cheek, smudging the lipstick.  "Yeah, I'll do that, River.  Keep safe."  
  
"Will do," she said, gave the Doctor one last kiss and then walked off the TARDIS.  
  
It disembarked immediately, and she turned to watch it go.  "Good bye... my love."  
  
xXx  
  
John, after the fifth ring of the door bell, finally went to get it.  He jerked it open (five rings in half a minute was annoying!) and sighed.  "Doctor, can you not do that please?"  
  
"Well, I coulda just brought the TARDIS into your living room," the Doctor said, pouting.  "But I didn't want to interrupt."  
  
John blinked.  "Interrupt what?"  
  
The Doctor blinked innocently at him, and glanced around shiftily.  "Oh, nothing," he said dismissively, and passed John to walk up the stairs.  
  
John frowned and hurried after him, leaving the others to just come in.  "No, really, Doctor, interrupt  _what_?"  The Doctor didn't answer, but John was already thinking ahead anyway.  "Wait, are we talking about- are we assuming things?  Doctor?  Are you assuming things?"  
  
The Doctor turned once in the living room, giving him a wide-eyed, innocent look.  "Assuming?   _No_ ," he said, and shrugged.  "Not assuming anything!  Why would you think we're assu- I'm assuming anything?  Unless, of course, there's something to be assumed?  But that can't be it, right?  Because you and Sherlock wouldn't just deny a mutual attraction or anything.  So it  _can't_  be there, and thus I'm not assuming anything!"  
  
"Wha- why does everyone seem con _vinced_  that we're gay for each other?!" John demanded.  
  
"I dunno," the Doctor replied with that wide-eyed look.  "... are you?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Well, okay then."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Good."  
  
They fell silent for a beat, then the Doctor cleared his throat.  "So!  Where  _is_  Sherlock?"  
  
John sighed and rubbed his face with a hand.  "I was just wondering that myself, actually.  He went to talk to Ms. Hudson over an hour ago..."  
  
"Well let's go find him, then!" the Doctor chirped.  
  
"Ah, actually, may I have a word with you, Doctor?" Cas asked.  
  
The alien man blinked bemusedly at Cas, smiling slightly.  "Sure.  To the TARDIS!  We'll chat there."  
  
"Here's fine.  Dean and John should go find Sherlock and fill him out."  
  
"In," Dean corrected.  
  
"Fill him in," Cas said flatly.  
  
The Doctor's eyes danced with amusement at the exchange.  "Alright, cool.  See you lads in a bit, then!"  
  
John rolled his eyes and just walked downstairs.  Dean hesitated, but followed, shutting the door behind him.  The Doctor gave Cas an expectant look.  
  
"Sam... he's alive," Cas said quietly, without preamble.  
  
The Doctor's smile vanished.  "I know."  
  
Cas blinked, slightly taken aback.  "You do?"  
  
Sighing, the taller male turned and walked over to a chair, sitting down.  "Yes.  The TARDIS went ballistic.  He's... only partially human, and he's quite different.  I don't think there's a soul in there."  
  
"There isn't," Cas confirmed.  "You've seen him then?"  
  
"I have.  In Florida earlier.  Well, tomorrow, actually.  He spotted me and started over, and the TARDIS freaked out.  I got out of there as quickly as possible."  He shook his head.  "I don't think he was planning on giving me the old 'hello, how are you doing', either.  He didn't look happy at all."  
  
Cas nodded.  "He's been hunting down non-humans.  I wanted to warn you."  
  
The Doctor frowned.  "How are you going to break it to him?" he asked, glancing pointedly toward the door.  Which was open.  Oh  _boy_.  
  
"You knew?" Dean hissed softly, eyes trained on the Doctor.  "You  _knew_?  And you?"  His gaze slid to Cas.  " _You_?"  
  
Cas frowned.  "I only just found out."  
  
"And you didn't come and tell me immediately?   _Why_?" Dean demanded.  He slammed the door shut behind him and stood in front of it, arms crossed.  "I thought...  That doesn't matter.  He's my  _brother_.  I have the  _right_.  You think you can just  _keep_  that from me?"  His voice was rising with every word.  "Well, you can't!  He's my BROTHER!!  MINE!  You  _can't_  keep that from me!  I coulda been  _out_  there,  _searching_  for him, _finding_  him!  I could be protecting him!"  
  
"Dean, he's not-" the Doctor tried.  
  
"NOT WHAT!?" Dean yelled.   "Not  _whole_ , you said!  Lost his  _soul_ , right?  Been killing nonhumans?"  He grinned.  "Guess who I hope he finds?"  
  
With that, he turned and left, the door closing with a quiet  _snick_  behind him.  The Doctor and Castiel watched him go, wide-eyed.  "Well... that was rude," the Doctor murmured faintly.  
  
"He took it well."  Cas shrugged.  "He could have gotten out his gun and shot us."  
  
"He could have, yes," the Doctor agreed.  He sighed.  "He's going to go after Sam."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Damn."  
  
xXx  
  
Gwen went to the cafe on Towne Street, a little place called 'The Towne Cafe'*.  She looked around, taking everything in like she'd been there before.  But she hadn't.  All she had were the images that Gabe had given her.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she searched for the self-proclaimed angel, but didn't see him anywhere.  So she grabbed a booth in the corner, ordered a coffee - black - and waited.  Gabe suddenly appeared in the seat across from her, and she jumped.  
  
"You know, that's hilarious every single time I do it," Gabe said.  
  
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.  "You have ten minutes, and then I'm leaving."  
  
"Aww, c'mon, it's our first date!" he protested.  
  
"Ten.  Minutes."  
  
Gabe pouted at her.  "You're the sort that sleeps with a baseball bat, aren't you?"  
  
Her lips pursed.  "A gun, actually.  Nine and a half minutes."  
  
"Alright, alright!  Sheesh, women," he complained.  "Do you give that boss of yours the same issue?  Or am I just that special?"  
  
"Nine minutes and fifteen seconds."  
  
"Oh, c'mon-"  
  
"Thirteen."  
  
Gabe glared.  She was taking all the fun out of this!  " _Fine_ ," he grumbled.  "Alright, so here's the deal.  As I said before, I represent a group of the supernatural.  We call ourselves NAMOC."  
  
"Nah-mock?" she echoed, brow furrowed.  
  
"Yes.  N. A. M. O. C.  Non-human Association to Maintain an Organized Community," he replied, smirking.  
  
"You're peacekeepers?" she asked, surprised.  "Supernatural peacekeepers?"  
  
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  "Essentially.  We were recently established, in order to help otherworlders, as well as the nonhumans that belong here on Earth.  We help them co-exist with humans."  
  
Gwen gave him a stunned look.  "Like... Like Torchwood?"  
  
Gabe laughed.  "No, not at all.  Torchwood is more concerned with the defense of humanity.  We care a bit more about the welfare of nonhumans.  A lot more, actually."  
  
She shook her head.  This was amazing.  "But... why come to me?  I'm quite clearly human."  
  
He nodded.  "You are."  He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.  "I'll tell you why you.  Because you're  _human_ , and you know humans.  You're good with people.  You're compassionate.  You care about non-humans, and you're  _used_  to dealing with non-humans.  And we need someone just like you to help us out."  
  
She frowned.  "Why not...  Toshiko?  Or Owen, or Ianto?  Why me?  I mean.... they're just as qualified..."  
  
"No, not really.  Ianto is too devoted to Jack Harkness.  Toshiko is too analytical and cold- yes, she is, don't argue with me.  Owen is too prideful.  He'd never relate to our association.  So it must be you."  
  
Gwen sat back, a little overwhelmed.  Irrationally, she realized she'd lost count of the time, but then that didn't matter so much now, did it?  Across from her, Gabe said nothing, letting her work it out on her own.  
  
She frowned, drawing a slow deep breath through her nose.  "Supernatural creatures?" she prompted after a beat.  
  
"Angels, vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters.  Name it, it probably exists," he replied gently.  
  
"Genies?"  
  
"In a manner of speaking," he agreed.  
  
Her brow furrowed.  "Fairies?"  
  
"Eh, that's debatable."  
  
She swallowed.  "Demons?" she whispered faintly.  
  
He sighed.  "Well, yes, but they don't belong to our association.  They aren't very fond of us, and vice versa."  
  
She nodded slowly, white-faced.  "So... what exactly do you want?" she asked softly.  
  
"I want you to be a member.  Help our members blend in with the population.  Of course, you can't tell anyone."  
  
She huffed.  "No, of course not," she muttered.  "I don't know..."  
  
"Think about it," Gabe suggested.  "Take your time.  I will return in a week for your answer.  I hope for a positive."  
  
"One more question?" she asked.  "Why do all this?  Go to all this trouble?"  
  
"All life... deserves a chance," he replied, smiling at her.  And with a semi-familiar flutter of wings, he vanished.  
  
Gwen sat there in the booth, thinking, for a while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I’m so unoriginal. XDDD
> 
> Okay, so Dean may be a LITTLE OOC here, but in my mind, when someone keeps things like his little brother being alive from him, he's quite justified in throwing a tantrum, and who ever accused Dean of being mature? (Yay runon sentence) So there you have it.


	8. Something of a Demonic Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons pop up in paradise. One of them steals herself a Consultant Detective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Timey wimey, wibbly wobbly stuff, Demons, kidnapping … stuff, references to previous chapters
> 
> So after sitting down and asking azhwi for help in regards to a couple scenes in this chapter, I was forced to clarify a few things for her (she has not read many of the previous chapters). This, of course, made me realize how deliciously wibbly wobbly, timey wimey this is. And I am pleased with how things are going.

Gwen returned to the Hub a little after eleven, frowning as she thought back over the meeting.  Gabe had said she wasn't to tell Jack and the others... but...  Why couldn't she?  Surely, they'd want to help, right?  
  
"Gwen!  Glad you decided to grace us with your presence," Jack said, approaching.  He looked like he was in a bad mood.  "Where have you been?" he demanded, stopping in front of her and crossing his arms.  
  
"I um... was having brunch, with my mum.  She was concerned about me..." Gwen said reluctantly.  She didn't like lying to him... but what could she say?  She'd been meeting with an angel about his supernatural cult?  He wouldn't believe that.  
  
"Great!  Glad you and your mom are so close," he said, frowning.  "Well, while you were out having  _brunch_ , the rest of the team has finished cleaning up and started in on repairs."  He turned, obviously expecting her to follow, and she did.  "We were attacked last night, by Cybermen, or so we believe.  There was a witness up on the street, but she's still unconscious."  
  
" _Attacked_?" she yelped.  "How'd they get in?"  
  
"We don't  _know_ ," he replied, leading her into his office.  He sighed and sat down.  "They knocked out most of our equipment, and all of our surveillance.  Even wiped the tapes.  We got the security back up first thing.  Ianto's out of it for now; he was here when it happened, but he has a concussion and doesn't remember a thing..."  He frowned.  
  
"Oh...  Um, will he be okay?" she asked, worried.  "I mean... it's not...  _permanent_?"  
  
Jack shook his head.  "Just lost the last week or so, and we hope he'll get it all back, but he should be fine in no time."  He sighed.  "This can't happen again.  We'll have to... upgrade security or something, I guess..."  He sat back and met her gaze.  "More than that, though...  Right now, I need you.  All of you.  I need you to be here, where I know where you are, where I can find you, not off having brunch with your mother."  
  
She looked down.  "I'm sorry.  It won't happen again," she murmured, feeling guilty.  "Um... I'll just get to work."  
  
"I have a job for you, actually," he said.  "I have to stay here, so I need you to meet with a contact of mine.  He refuses to speak over the phone, paranoid, I guess, and he'll only be in town for a little while."  He handed her a picture, of a dark-haired, handsome man wearing dark clothing.  It was a surveillance shot.  "He goes by the alias Joe Rush, but I don't know his real name.  In fact, I haven't been able to dig up anything on him.  But he's a reliable source of information, and likes his privacy, so I let it go.  Be careful not to say anything to him that he could use against us, alright?  He  _will_  use it, ruthlessly."  
  
She took the picture, swallowing.  "Um, so what did you need to know from him?"  
  
"He'll have a file, it will be in a different language, but I can read it and that's what matters.  Get the file, give him this..."  He handed her a small envelope that felt like it held a stack of money.  "And leave.  You cannot talk to him for any longer than ten minutes.  Alright?  If he gets pushy, remind him that he and I have a deal."  
  
Gwen nodded.  "Got it.  Anything else?"  
  
He shook his head.  "No.  That's everything.  Be back by one."  Then he reconsidered.  "Oh!  Yeah, meet him at an outdoor cafe on Westgate Street.  It's called the  _Savage Garden_ *, it's a new place.  There will be a lot of people there, which is why I chose that place.  Text him halfway there at this number..."  He jotted down a phone number on a note pad and tore the page off, handing it over.  "Tell him to meet you there.  Got that?  Don't forget!"  
  
She took them all and nodded.  "Alright.  I'll take care of this."  
  
"Good luck," he said, reaching for the phone as it started to ring.  
  
She waved and left.  
  
xXx  
  
Taking a deep breath, Gwen quickly stole a table when it was vacated.  No sooner had she sat than the man from the picture sat down across from her, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere.  He gave her a cocky smile.  "Hello, love.  Don't suppose you'd like company on this fine morning."  
  
Gwen shrugged.  "Jack sent me."  
  
He actually pouted at that.  "Darn.  Well, I was figuring as much.  You have the money?"  
  
"Do you have the file?" she returned calmly.  
  
He smirked.  "The name's Joe Rush, by the way.  Don't suppose I could get your's?"  
  
"Don't suppose you can," she agreed.  "Do you have it?"  
  
"Pushy pushy," he complained, but reached into the briefcase he was carrying and pulled out a thick manilla folder, dropping it onto the table.  "Now the payment, under the table if you could."  
  
She glanced around surreptitiously before shifting and tugging the envelope out of her jacket pocket and slipping it under the table.  She felt him grasp it and tried to withdraw her hand, but he caught that too.  "Lemme go."  
  
"First, a few words, if you could, love.  What does Jack want with this very special information?" he asked, smiling.  
  
"I don't know," she snapped, pulling at her arm.  "Let.  Me.  Go."  
  
His fingers tightened, painfully.  "Tell me."  
  
"He didn't tell me, dammit!  He just asked me to pick this up for him!" she said, forcing herself to panic a bit more than she actually was.  "I just work at a pizza shop he frequents!  I swear.  He paid me a lot of money and said he couldn't do the exchange himself so he wanted me to come get this!"  
  
He released her.  "You're lying, Gwen Cooper.  I can tell."  He smiled widely at her.  
  
She paled and quickly got up, scooping up the folder.  "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Rush.  Good day," she said, and beat the fastest retreat she could without all out running.  
  
'Joe Rush' laughed softly as he watched her go.  "No wonder he likes her.  What a fascinating little girl, eh?"  He vanished from his seat without another word, the grin on his face last to go.  
  
xXx  
  
The others finally came back upstairs, this time with Sherlock.  They had filled him in on happenings, Dean neglecting to mention Sam as neither knew him and wouldn't care.  
  
After John got everyone some tea (he headed Sherlock off before he could, because Sherlock's was disgusting), they sat or stood around in silence for a few minutes.  Finally, the Doctor cleared his throat.  "So.  Normally, I wouldn't bother with getting outside help, but it appears that there are more beings in the mix than just Cybermen.  And they're in  _cahoots_ , so..."  
  
"We need to find a way to track the demons to the source," Sherlock said, frowning.  
  
The Doctor nodded.  "Yes, you're right.  But how?"  
  
"I can see what my brothers know," Castiel piped up softly.  "Some of them do still talk to me."  
  
Dean pretended not to hear the slight on him.  Instead he nodded and crossed his arms.  "Alright, then.  You can go do that, the Doc can focus on looking into the Cybermen angle with Jack, right?"  
  
The Doctor nodded, watching the hunter calmly.  "Yes, we can do that easily.  Jack will be returning here in a little bit, and I can go back with him.  He tells me they are repairing base right now."  He waved a small cellular phone.  
  
"Great," Dean said.  "John, any chance you can go out and snoop around town?  I can give you a list of things to look for, signs of demonic presence, what-have-you."  
  
John blinked, but nodded.  "Yeah, I can do that.  What about you?" he asked.  
  
"I... have something I need to look into," Dean hedged.  
  
"You will just leave, then?" Castiel asked, eyes narrowed on the hunter's face.  
  
Dean scoffed and turned, hearing a knock downstairs.  "I guess that's Jack."  
  
The Doctor nodded and hopped to his feet.  "Yep!  Keep in touch!  And Dean?"  He stepped over to the hunter, putting a hand on his shoulder.  "Be careful."  
  
Dean shrugged him off.  "I'll be fine.  You should get onto the Cyberman problem."  
  
"Yes, of course."  The Doctor waved to the others and jogged downstairs.  They could hear him greet Jack exuberantly before the door was shut with a  _click_.  
  
Dean turned and gave Cas a flat look.  "Well?"  
  
The angel met his gaze, expressionless.  "I did not mean to lie to you," he said softly.  When Dean only glared, he vanished.  
  
No sooner was he gone than a demon appeared, fingers wrapping around Sherlock's upper arm.  She beamed at the others as they tensed.  "Just a little insurance!" she chirped.  
  
Sherlock lunged for John, his fingers catching the jacket draped over his flatmate's arm, but she jerked him away and all he got was the jacket despite John reaching back.  He spun, arm lifting and slammed his jacket-clad fist into the woman's nose with a yell, even as they vanished.  
  
Silence reigned for a second.  Dean swallowed.  "Castiel, get your feathery ass down here!" he yelled.  
  
Cas reappeared, blinking.  "What's wrong?"  
  
"Demon chick just appeared again," Dean snapped, still annoyed with the angel.  "Took off with Sherlock 'as insurance'."  
  
The Doctor and Jack appeared in the doorway, out of breath.  "What happened?" Jack gasped.  
  
"We heard a commotion," the Doctor added.  
  
Dean kicked the wall.  
  
xXx  
  
 _Some time previously..._  
  
"Alright!  We'd best get going to John's," the Doctor announced, grinning.  He picked up a cap from the table, but quickly put it down when Bobby reached for a shot gun.  "Sorry, sorry, won't touch it again!" he yelped.  
  
"Damn right, you won't, idjit," Bobby retorted, and snatched up his cap, replacing it on his head.  "Get out of here, you guys.  I want to sit down and pretend you were never here already!"  
  
Dean chuckled.  "Alright, alright, see you later Bobby."  He turned to the Doctor as he grabbed his jacket and pulled it on.  "So!  Why  _were_  you late, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, I got here tomorrow.  You'd left a note," the Doctor commented.  
  
Dean blinked, but snatched a piece of paper off the table.  "Alright, done," he said.  "Where was it?"  
  
"On the table," the Doctor said, motioning toward Bobby's table.  "Bobby wasn't here."  
  
"Got plans tomorrow," Bobby replied with a shrug, and took a sip of his beer.  
  
"Is that it?" Dean asked.  
  
"Eh, besides getting rerouted to Melbourne, Florida, it was easy sailing," the Doctor replied.  
  
"Florida?"  Dean shook his head.  "Not even going to ask..."  
  
Outside the window, watching, waiting, Sam turned away.  Melbourne, Florida one day from now.  He'd best get moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, this is a reference to the Vampire Lestat.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please Review!
> 
> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	9. Something of a Catastrophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team brainstorms, Sherlock talks to a brick, and Gwen experiences a near miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Angst, plotty

Sherlock woke slowly.  The smells around him were unfamiliar, so he kept still and pretended (quite successfully) to be asleep.  Nearby he could hear soft voices.  
  
"-understand that I need you to keep an eye on him.  It's important," a deep, accented voice was saying.   _Perhaps Scottish?  Well, certainly Northern, anyway._  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I get it, Crowley," another voice muttered.  Despite his reassurance, he was clearly apathetic to the issue entirely.   _American accent.  Male.  Mid to late twenties.  Tall.  No, big, in all manners._  
  
"Alright, I know I can trust you," the first, Crowley, said, sounding amused.  "After all, if you don't, I'll just kill you again.  You searched him?"  
  
"The jacket he grabbed had a few receipts, a gum wrapper and a handful of coins, but nothing else.  It's over on the table.  His clothing had a wire in it.  Destroyed that.  His cell had the GPS on.  I shut it off.  Shoes had a blade.  There was another strapped to his arm, and a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants.  Wasn't loaded, though.  The magazine was in his pocket," the second listed off.  "There's no way they could find him now, and he won't stand a chance against me.  His wallet's pretty empty too."  
  
"I see you tied him up," Crowley commented.  
  
"Sandra got her face bashed in by his  _fist_.  I'm not stupid," the American replied.  "Was that it?"  
  
"How long's he gonna be asleep for?"  
  
"Another hour, probably."  
  
"Alright."  
  
Silence fell, and the slightly heavy footsteps of the American moved.  Sherlock resisted the urge to frown thoughtfully.  The gait was lighter than his height and weight suggested it should be.  He walked like a cat.  
  
"Sherlock Holmes, huh," the voice murmured, from not far away.  He scoffed.  "Who are you that Crowley wants you under wraps?"  There was the thunk of leather on wood; the man had been looking in Sherlock's wallet.  The footsteps moved over, the man towering above where Sherlock lay tied to some sort of cot.  "You know, it'd be smart just to kill you."  A hand grabbed his chin and turned his face as if he wanted to see it better.  "You're awake."  
  
Sherlock abandoned the facade and opened his eyes, meeting the male's.  Tall and muscular like his voice suggested, dark emotionless eyes, wide forehead suggesting he had some brains, no creases in the man's face showing any sort of expression.  
  
He didn't care one bit about Sherlock at all.  
  
The man released Sherlock's face and took two steps back.  Smart.  "Who are you to Crowley?" he asked, head tilting slightly.  
  
Sherlock shrugged.  "A pet?  Who knows.  I don't even know who Crowley is," he replied, glancing around.  "Where am I?  How'd I get here?"  
  
"You know how you got here.  Crowley tells me you've been hanging with my brother and the Doctor."  He shrugged.  "How is Dean?"  
  
"So you  _do_  care?" Sherlock asked shrewdly.  
  
"Honestly?  No.  But if I had a soul, I would.  So why not pretend?"  He grabbed a chair and set it down, back facing Sherlock, then sat down backwards.  He propped his arms on the back of it.  "Well?"  
  
"He misses you," Sherlock replied.  "But he hasn't told me very much about you at all.  Sam, wasn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Sam replied, shrugging.  "He doesn't talk about me?"  
  
"No.  He talked to the Doctor and Jack about you," Sherlock said.  
  
"Ah."  Sam leaned forward.  "And Cas?  He still around?"  
  
Sherlock's eyes narrowed.  "Why?  What's it to you?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Sam's eyes narrowed too.  "He's a threat, to me, to Dean.  A ticking time bomb.  I need to get rid of him.  And of course, if I kill him, I'll have to kill the Doctor.  Maybe trap Jack in cement, since he can't die."  
  
"You plan on picking everyone off one-by-one?" Sherlock asked, frowning.  "You really have lost it."  
  
"You think I'm crazy?  Nah.  Just don't care.  It's refreshing, actually," Sam replied, not rising to the bait.  "Can fuck who I choose, kill what I choose, and I won't feel guilty at all.  None of that matters anymore."  
  
"So what's stopping you from killing humans?" Sherlock asked, brows raised.  
  
Sam blinked.  "Why should I?  If they don't get in my way, then I have no reason to kill them."  
  
"And me?"  
  
"You'll die," Sam replied.  "Just not yet."  He got up.  "Crowley's orders are to kill you when my brother and the others come to rescue you."  He smiled.  "Have fun existing until them."  
  
"Oh, yes, it'll be  _such_  a jolly wonder," Sherlock retorted scathingly.  
  
Sam just shrugged and turned away, and Sherlock worked on the ropes around his wrists.  
  
xXx  
  
Gwyn got home as quick as she could after work that day.  She searched the house, but as Rhys had said, he was out with friends for drinks.  
  
Jack had left sometime around one 'to check on something' and hadn't returned the rest of the day.  He'd eventually called and said everyone could clock out whenever they wanted, and so she'd taken the opportunity to hurry home.  
  
She still had a lot to think about.  Like Joe Rush, and Gabe, and angels, demons, supernatural creatures...  
  
Groaning, she got up and poured herself a scotch.  She was going to tell Gabe no.  She was going to turn down his offer, and go on as before, loyal and carefree.  She didn't  _need_  more secrets in her life, and she certainly didn't need a flirtatious angel screwing around with her head.  
  
 _Scritch, scritch, craaackkk._  
  
Gwyn froze.  What was that?  It had come from the front door.  Was someone trying to get in?  "Rhys?  Is that you?" she asked, setting down her untouched glass of scotch.  She pulled out her gun and edged toward the entrance hall.  "Rhys?  I thought you said you'd be home late!"  
  
The door came into view.  It was half opened, the chain bolt the only thing keeping it closed.  And then, abruptly, the door was shoved open all the way, the bolt jerking right out of the wall plaster.  Gwyn fired off a few shots automatically.  They just bounced off the thing standing there.  
  
Her eyes widened in alarm.  " _Shit_ ," she breathed, backing up.  
  
"Surrender," the Cyberman demanded.  "You will be converted, Gwyn Cooper."  
  
She lifted her gun and fired again.  "Get out!  Shit, shit, shit, shit  _shit_!"  
  
 _Bang bang!_  
  
"Resistance will result in death.  Surrender, Gwyn Cooper," it said, advancing.  
  
"No!"  
  
The Cyberman lifted its arm.  "Then you will die."  
  
She dove to the side as it shot at her with a laser.  "Craaap!  Oh crap!"  
  
It followed, cornering her in the living room.  "Surrender, Gwyn Cooper, or you will be killed."  
  
" _No_ , I said, you git!  Get away!" she yelled.  
  
It aimed, and Gwyn cringed before closing her eyes.  She prayed with all her might that the damn thing would leave after she was dead.   _Rhys..._  
  
Silence.  
  
When it didn't shoot her, she slowly opened her eyes and lowered her arms.  She was no longer in her apartment.  Instead, she stood in the middle of what looked like someone's basement, surrounded by a group of people who just stared at her in surprise.  Like they didn't expect her to be there any more than she did.  
  
"Whoops, sorry for interrupting."  
  
Gwyn then realized there was a hand on her shoulder.  She turned around, eyes wide, and saw that it was Gabe, smiling at her smugly.  "You- I- wha- how?"  
  
"Shhh, breathe first, okay?" he suggested.  
  
"Gabriel, who is this?" a terse voice demanded.  
  
Gwyn looked, spying an elderly gentleman with long, tied back gray hair and brown eyes, a neat beard and mustache, and bushy eyebrows.  His mouth had laugh-lines, but his forehead had frown lines.  His accent was Southern-ish.  Maybe French.  
  
"Oh, this is Gwyn Cooper, the woman I told you about," Gabe replied.  
  
The elderly man perked a little.  "Really?  She's agreed then-?"  
  
"No," Gabe said, shaking his head.  "A Cyberman went after her.  She hasn't said no yet, so I felt obliged to rescue her."  
  
She whipped around.  "Now wait just a bloody minute!" she yelped.  "You've been  _watching_  me?!  All day?!"  
  
He grinned.  " _All_  day."  
  
She slapped him, then winced and jerked her hand back.  "Oww..."  
  
"Hey, if you think that hurt  _you_... now my face stings!" he complained, rubbing his cheek with a grimace.  "Don't worry!  I closed my eyes while you were in the toilet."  
  
She pulled her spare gun out of her waistband (she'd dropped the other) and aimed it at his crotch.  "You- you..."  She stopped, her brain catching up with her, and lowered it.  "Wait,  _Gabriel_?  Like... like the biblical angel Gabriel?"  
  
"Ding ding ding, give this lady a prize!" Gabe said, winking.  "Can you put that away now?"  
  
She sighed and returned it to her waist band.  Then she stiffened.  " _Rhys_..."  
  
"Sorry, who?" Gabe asked, blinking.  
  
"My  _boyfriend_ ," she snarled.  "Sorry, no, my fiance... geez, still getting used to it..."  She sighed.  "Can I sit down?"  
  
The elderly man nodded and brought her a chair.  "Would you like something to drink?  I see our recruiter hasn't exactly given you a lot of time to adjust.  Gabriel, would you please make sure her fiance is in good health?  Wouldn't want to give her a reason to tell us no, right?"  He gave her a smile.  "My name is Andre Moreau.  It's nice to meet you, Miss Cooper."  
  
She smiled and nodded.  "A drink would be great."  She looked over to say something to Gabe, but he'd vanished.  She looked back at Andre, whom was accepting a bottle of water from a young boy no older than eight.  
  
She finally looked around at the people here, stunned.  Their ages ranged from an infant in an obviously unrelated man's arms, to an old woman curled up on a cot.  And all of them looked like they hadn't had a home in a while.  They slept  _here_.  "What  _is_  this place?" she asked, looking up at Andre.  
  
He held the water out to her, and she accepted it.  "This is the last place we can hide.  Hunters are slowly killing us all off, and if not hunters, then Torchwood, or UNIT, or even the Doctor.  Those of us here... we just want to exist.  Hunters never bother sparing the  _peaceful monsters_ , Torchwood doesn't care about alien or Supernatural life.  UNIT is... well, they're overly violent."  He sighed.  "We just want to survive, to live in peace in a chaotic world.  Is that so wrong?"  
  
She shook her head.  "But what about the beings that have to... drink human blood, or just kill things?" she asked, concerned.  
  
"No one here, no one of NAMOC, kills.  Vampires get blood from blood banks.  Werewolves are restrained during the full moon."  He gestured.  "We find ways to cope without bringing attention on ourselves."  
  
"Then what do you need  _me_  for?" she asked.  
  
"Sometimes we need a human voice among us," he replied.  "And you would provide that.  You don't have to live with us, you can continue living your own life.  We just ask that if we need your help, you provide it.  You'd save a lot of lives."  
  
Gabe appeared right in front of her with a flap of wings.  "He's at a bar with his friends," he said, quirking a smile.  "They're arguing over golf, of all things..."  
  
"Oh thank god," she breathed, sagging with relief.  "What about the Cyberman?"  
  
"It was still in your apartment."  He shrugged.  "I don't particularly care to get involved with that, though.  It's not our problem."  
  
She nodded.  She hadn't even expected him to save her.  "Alright.  I need to deal with this, meaning I need to call Jack...  I'm sorry, Andre, but Gabe- Gabriel gave me a week to think about it and it hasn't even been twenty four hours."  She smiled at him.  "I will think about it, I promise.  I just need to sort this mess out first, okay?"  
  
Andre nodded and smiled at her.  "Yes, of course.  Please let us know, okay?  Gabriel can bring you to Torchwood."  
  
Gwyn got to her feet, setting down the unopened bottle of water, and nodded.  "Yeah, please drop me off nearby."  
  
Gabe reached out and grabbed her arm.  Next thing she knew, she stood before the fountain above Torchwood.  She turned to look at him and smiled.  "Thank you, Gabriel.  For saving me, and making sure Rhys was okay."  
  
He shrugged, shifting and clearing his throat.  "Sure, no problem.  I, uh... gotta go now, though..."  
  
She nodded.  "Yeah.  See you."  
  
"Later."  He waved and vanished.  
  
She sighed and went toward the entrance to Torchwood.  
  
xXx  
  
Jack hung up his phone.  "Alright, I'm sorry, I have to go guys," he said, looking antsy.  "One of my girls was just attacked at her flat by a Cyberman.  I need to make sure she and her fiance are gonna be okay..."  
  
The Doctor's brows drew up, but he nodded.  "I think we can handle this on our own."  
  
"Thanks, Doctor," Jack said.  "See you around."  He waved and left.  
  
John watched him go, then got up and grabbed a kettle.  He quickly set some water to boil.  Dean came up behind him, but stayed back.  "Hey," he said gently.  "We'll get him back-"  
  
"He shouldn't be in this mess to begin with!" John retorted, whipping around.  "God, Dean, you- do you always-"  He stopped and looked down, too furious and scared to talk properly.  He took a slow, deep breath and let it out.  "Um, you should... probably leave, after we have Sherlock back.  Stay away," he said finally, looking up.  "He, uh..."  He drew a short, sharp breath and released it.  "He gets into enough trouble on his own...  He doesn't need you guys coming in here and... and  _helping_."  
  
Dean nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a sigh, and leaned back against the door frame.  "Yeah...  Yeah, I understand.  I have things that... that I need to take care of too, after we get him back.  I won't be sticking around, so neither will Cas.  I can't speak for Jack or the Doctor, but I can ask them to steer clear, if you'd like."  
  
"Please," John said stiffly.  
  
"Alright."  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence between them before Dean pushed away from the wall and just left the room without another word.  John sat down in a chair by the table and buried his face in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	10. Something of a Breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's knot-making skills are better than previously anticipated. Meanwhile, the Doctor has an epiphany, but only John is at all surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Hints of boyxboy? Only thing I can think of
> 
> Zomg, so sorry for making you guys wait so long! I’m really super sorry! I was just completely stuck on how to continue until about twenty or so minutes ago. Anyway, here’s a surprise update!
> 
> I know it's short, but please enjoy it anyway!

River Song, once Melody Pond, set her laser gun back into its holster, the plastic-metal casing still slightly warm from use.  "Well, ta, then," she said, smirking at the alien guard now crumbled onto the floor.  
  
"Is this really a wise decision, Dr. Song?" one of the others with her asked.  "I mean, they've taken over the entire station!"  
  
River snorted at that.  "Oh, that's no trouble at all.  Went up against a planet of Weeping Angels last week, granted that was with the Doctor, but- duck!"  
  
Most of them did, the rest were shoved aside or jerked down forcefully.  Because really, River didn't like to see her customers burned by wide-stream laser bursts.  It was always a mess, and they complained about it.  Not to mention she'd lose the last payment.  
  
"Weeping Angels?" the same man that had questioned her squeaked.  He'd obviously heard of them, then.  Point for him.  "As in... the ones that sneak up on you and kill you?"  
  
"Obviously," River retorted, pulling out her gun and shooting their attacker.  She didn't continue until she'd lead the five man group out of the hall and off into a tertiary bridge unit (three doors down and on the left).  "By the way, if you ever meet one, don't take a picture."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Just trust me."  
  
xXx  
  
It was proving to be all but impossible to get out of his bindings.  Sherlock had been working at it slowly over hours, watching the Winchester boy pace around the room like a cat in a cage.  However, if there was one thing that Sherlock knew about the other male, it was that he'd long ago learned how to properly tie a knot.  
  
 _Must be the hunting_ , the consulting detective thought broodingly.  Then he felt the rope give a little, and hope surged anew.  
  
xXx  
  
Jack rubbed his face tiredly before shaking his head and focusing on Gwyn.  "Alright, so... how did you escape?" he asked, brow furrowing.  
  
She fidgeted, and then  _lied_  to him.  "Window.  I climbed out it and re-entered the building through the hall window, then I ran," she replied.  
  
The Captain didn't call her on her fib, rather making a mental note.  "But why was it  _after_  you?  Did it demand anything in specific?  Was it going through your things?  What?"  
  
"No, and no," she said, annoyed.  "It just told me to surrender to be converted, and I said no and ran.  The door held long enough for me to get out, I guess, cause that was the last I saw of it."  
  
"Tosh!" he yelled, turning to scowl at the girl near the computer.  "Do you have the surveillance from her apartment yet?"  
  
The woman didn't even pause long enough to give him an annoyed look, instead finally pulling up the video.  "Yeah, here."  
  
He and Gwyn stood there watching the footage.  The Cyberman was standing with its back to the camera, Gwyn dove out of the shot, it went after her, babbled about conversion... and then stopped.  It took a step back, scanning the apartment.  
  
Behind it... a familiar woman appeared, sighing.  " _Oh now look.  You've gone and lost her.  Oh well, got what we wanted._ "  She waved Gwyn's phone around nonchalantly.  She paused, turning her head suddenly to look right into the camera.  She beamed.  " _You're next, Captain Jack Harkness!  And we'll make sure to kill your little girl next time._ "  And she vanished.  
  
Jack swore.  Demons and Cybermen working together?  That couldn't be good.  
  
xXx  
  
"Ah HA," the Doctor cried suddenly, jumping to his feet.  
  
He'd obviously had an idea, because the Doctor did the same thing that Sherlock sometimes did when he had an idea.  John thought the whole thing was just way too depressing.  
  
"Well, what is it?" he asked after a beat of watching the Doctor glance around the room.  
  
"Where is Sherlock's laptop?" the timelord finally demanded, meeting John's gaze.  
  
A single blond brow furrowed faintly, mostly from confusion but also a bit in annoyance since this was weird, even for the Doctor.  Though, that wasn't really saying a lot, was it?  "Um... in his room, I think."  
  
The Doctor immediately took off down the hall while John scrambled to his feet and went after him.  He could hear the sound of Dean muttering to Ms. Hudson that no, the Doctor was alright.  Then footsteps quickly hurried after them both.  
  
As the three of them burst into Sherlock's room and the Doctor made a bee-line for the laptop set on the nightstand, the timelord started to do that babble thing he did often.  
  
"So, right, I was thinking about Sherlock, and how it was really very odd that he wasted the time he could have used to disable the demon-"  
  
"-you can't disable a demon," Dean inserted, but was ignored and the Doctor just raised his voice to talk over him.  
  
"-and instead reached out to grab  _John_.  Now considering that there's this little denied romance going on between the two of you-"  
  
"-we don't have a romance!" John blustered, and was also ignored.  
  
"-then why would he reach for John, knowing that the demon was,  _well_ , a demon - and of course he  _knew_ , I mean, it's Sherlock for the First's sake."  The Doctor paused just long enough to inhale, exhale, snatch open the laptop and start typing, and then inhale again.  
  
"Then I thought  _maybe he was up to something_.  Why would he reach for John?  Maybe he wasn't reaching for  _John_.  Maybe he was reaching for  _John's jacket_."  He grinned as he quickly gained access to the computer.  "Because it's Sherlock, and we all know Sherlock has a crush on John-"  
  
"He does  _not_ , for God's sake, would you stop insinuating-"  
  
"-and so obviously he wouldn't let John leave the house without knowing  _exactly_  where he is at all times.  Now, he could either constantly text John while he's out-"  
  
"He does that; I have to turn off the phone sometimes," John muttered, giving in.  
  
"-to which John would turn off his phone," the Doctor continued as he pulled up some sort of program.  "But he'd know that, and have a backup plan just in case.  Heck, he'd probably rely on the backup plan and just text as a means of not letting John find out about it.  HA!  I was right!"  
  
"About what?"  Dean blinked, and leaned around John to see that the Doctor was looking at a map of North America, with a blinking red light over southern Texas.  "Wait, is that-?"  
  
"Yes."  The Doctor grinned and met John's gaze.  "Sorry to break it to you, John, but Sherlock wired your jacket.  Good news is that we now know that he's in Texas, and exactly where."  
  
For a moment, John Watson just gaped at the Doctor, a single thought slowly forming within his mind.  Then anger surged, mixed with a heady dose of incredulity and not a little bit of hurt.  " _He's been **stalking**  me?!_" he snarled.  
  
The Doctor blinked at this, and shrugged sheepishly.  "Be happy, because it means we can save him?" he offered uncertainly.  "You want to, right?"  
  
"Oh,  _yes_  I want to save him, because then I can beat the snot out of him myself!" John snapped.  "Let's go rescue that idiot!"  He stomped off toward the TARDIS.  
  
The Doctor's brows furrowed as he looked at Dean, who rolled his eyes.  "Theirs is a twisted relationship; let's just leave it at that, man."  
  
A shrug was the answer.  "Well alright."  
  
As Dean followed the Doctor out, a thought occurred to him.  "How were you  _so sure_  Sherlock had him tagged?"  
  
"I wasn't completely certain until I hacked the computer," the Doctor admitted ruefully.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The password."  
  
"Which was...?"  
  
"John's middle name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	11. Something of an Empty Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean makes the ultimate sacrifice for family and friend alike. (So what else is new?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Angst? About the only thing I can think of
> 
> Again, took a while, but I was lost on inspiration. But got some with the new season of Supernatural so yay! (OMG, I’m so pissed off with Sam and Dean. Sam went all MIA and Dean, it appears, has betrayed Cas for a fucking Vampire with dubious motives. >

Sherlock glared at the Winchester now watching him like a hawk.  "You realize they won't fall for your trap," he pointed out.  
  
Shrugging carelessly, Sam shook his head.  "You'd be surprised what Dean falls for when it concerns me.  Which is exactly what I'm counting on, actually."  He paused to consider this for a moment, before apparently deciding to elaborate.  "It's, uh...  heh.  Well, it's my brother, after all."  He offered Sherlock a fake smile.  "He can't help but be the hero."  
  
 _Yeah I know the type,_  Sherlock thought, and Sam was right.  Dean  _would_  come, to save him, and to save Sam.  And John and the Doctor would be right there with him.  "Well?  Why such a set up?" he demanded, since Sam was feeling talkative anyway.  "To capture your brother?"  
  
"What, Dean?"  Sam chuckled.  "Uh, no."  He shook his head again and stuffed his hands into his pockets.  "Dean's useless to us.  Well, to Crowley.  Anyway, doesn't much matter to me what happens to them.  I'm just holding up my end of the bargain."  
  
"Deals with demons, then, is it?  I was under the impression that those don't generally end well," Sherlock drawled, eyes narrowing to slits as he studied the other man.  
  
Sam scratched his jaw, looking thoughtful.  "Yeah, generally, I guess you're right," he agreed slowly.  Then shrugged.  "But this isn't a deal for my soul, so.  No need to worry, really."  
  
A snort was the only answer.   _That's right.  No soul Sam._   But he had more pressing concerns.  "So?  What's the trap for, then?  If you don't care what happens to your brother, and you're planning on killing the others... why keep me alive?"  
  
"Orders, like I said," Sam replied, straightening.  He grabbed a knife from the table, clenching it in his fist as he glanced around the room.  "Don't worry, Mr. Holmes.  This isn't personal.  In fact, I'll be nice and kill you quickly as possible.  Won't that be fun?"  
  
"Jolly," Sherlock said flatly, eying the knife.  
  
Then he heard it, the soft stirrings of wind, and a faint siren-call growing louder by the second.  Shortly after the sound came the vaguest outline of a blue box, sitting to Sherlock's left, about ten feet away.  Sam flexed his fingers on the blade, eyes narrowing as he focused on the box.  
  
Sherlock used his distraction to finish squirming out of his wrist-bindings.  The box finished materializing as Sam took a step forward and the detective leaned down to get the ropes on his ankles.  
  
Movement drew the consulting detective's attention, and he blinked as John slipped into the room and walked cat-silently over to his flat mate.  'John?' Sherlock mouthed as the doctor knelt beside him and sliced through the binds on his ankles.  
  
John hadn't really torn his attention away from Sam, and lifted a finger to his mouth.  'Wait.'  
  
The TARDIS finished materializing, and Sam suddenly jerked around, eyes narrowing when he caught sight of John and Sherlock.  But he had no time to concern himself with them, because to TARDIS door jerked open, and Dean all but threw himself at the other Winchester.  
  
Down they went in a tumble of limbs, both fighting for hold of the blade in Sam's hand.  John dragged Sherlock out of the chair and away from them, then jabbed him in the kidney.  "You!  You were stalking me!"  
  
Sherlock offered him a blank look.  "Is this really the time to be going on about that?" he asked, brows lifting.  No point in denying it now.  
  
"Going on-  _Sherlock_!  You had me  _wired_!" John retorted, voice somewhere between raised and shouting but not really either at once.  
  
His flatmate huffed impatiently.  "Well what do you expect?" he demanded.  "You're always getting kidnapped.  By Lestrade, or Mycroft, or Adler- there was even that time in the pool with Moriarty-"  
  
Tossing up his arms, the army doctor was the picture of exasperated offense.  "Oh and you expect me to believe you did it out of concern for my welfare?" he snapped, practically steaming from his ears by this point.  "And I thought we weren't going to mention that incident ever again?"  
  
"You brought it up!"  
  
"I did  _not_!"  
  
"Yes you di-"  
  
"Look out!" the Doctor shouted from across the room.  
  
John dragged Sherlock down onto the floor automatically, just in time to avoid unexpected laser blasts.  The two exchanged a look briefly before leaping to their feet again as one.  "This way," the shorter one muttered, starting toward the side of the room.  
  
"No, useless, this way," Sherlock argued, and dragged his partner in the opposite direction.  Both ignored the Doctor's sudden yelp, and the loud snap of the TARDIS door closing as they made their way toward a door off to the side.  
  
Not stopping, the older of the pair shot his partner a dirty look.  "Now where are we going?" he demanded, in the sort of tone used by someone who didn't expect to be answered.  
  
And indeed, Sherlock  _didn't_  reply.  At least not until they got to the door and were forced to duck under another blast.  "Haven't the faintest," he admitted, skirting a pile of dilapidated boxes.  "Seemed well enough though.  Hm.  The Cybermen don't seem very interested in us, do they?  I wonder wh-IEEE!"  
  
They tumbled to the floor again, John landing on Sherlock and rolling so that Sherlock was on John and then John was on Sherlock again.  They came to a rest beside a table, and the blond hurried to his feet.  He tipped said table over before ducking behind it; a hand reaching up to drag the slightly slower Sherlock down with him.  "You were saying?"  
  
"Right."  Sherlock cleared his throat.  "But my point is...  wait."  Blue eyes narrowed and darted around the visible area of the room.  He leaned over to glimpse the rest of the room, and was dragged back by John as another blast was aimed their way.  "Did Castiel not come with you?"  
  
Blinking, John lifted his head to glance over the table.  Sam and Dean were having some sort of brawl - interspersed with Dean diving behind random objects to avoid laser blasts mostly directed at the shielded TARDIS - and the Cybermen were alternating their attention between the others, and John and Sherlock.  
  
The two locked gazes, an uneasy feeling in the pit of John's stomach.  "He was supposed to be here," the blond muttered.  
  
His partner didn't look surprised.  "We need to get to the TARDIS."  
  
xXx  
  
Things were  _not_  going well.  The Doctor had been forced to retreat into the TARDIS (mostly because Dean had shoved him inside and slammed the door), the brothers were fighting, and Sherlock and John were still out there in harm's way.  
  
Not that the Doctor was  _overly_  concerned with them, given that it was... well, Sherlock and John.  But still, he was a caring man, and they were his friends.  
  
"Maybe I should move closer to them," the Doctor murmured, frowning.  He eyed the monitor, and panned the picture.  The Cybermen were now standing silent sentry off to the side, watching Sam and Dean brawl like five year olds.   _Now that is strange.  What are they **waiting**  for?_  
  
Also, John and Sherlock were missing.   _Where did they go?_   Not to mention, Cas was nowhere in sight either.   _Oh boy..._  
  
The Doctor hurried over to the doors, and quickly opened it.  To his surprise, the Cybermen did  _not_  move toward him in an attempt to capture him and or the TARDIS.   _That makes me nervous,_  he thought, right before Sherlock and John appeared inches from his face.  
  
"YEEK!" the Doctor yelled, nearly being tripped over in their haste to get inside.  
  
John ignored him and turned back.  "Dean!  Come on!  Let's go!" he yelled out the door.  
  
The elder Winchester extricated himself from the choke hold Sam had on him, and they stumbled apart.  He glanced back toward the TARDIS, eyes wide, worried.  "I..."  
  
"Come on!" John repeated, holding out his hand.  
  
The Cybermen were moving again, lifting their guns.  Dean was looking between a gasping Sam (and the metal men behind him), and his friends.  "Just kill him," Sam announced, wiping blood from the side of his face.  
  
Dean took a step back, eyes wide with disbelief.  "Sammy?"  
  
"Dean!" John yelled, taking half a step.  
  
The Doctor grabbed his arm, gulping, and Dean looked at the blond.  "He's my brother."  He shook his head, expression becoming grim.  "Get them out of here, Doctor!  I'll catch up!"  
  
Looking sad, the Timelord nodded, pulling John in and shutting the door.  He closed his eyes as he heard the laser blasts, and eerie silence.  John was staring at the door in shock.  "What...?"  
  
The Doctor left him there, and set the coordinates for their flat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	12. Something of a Struggle Against Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's brother versus brother, Sherlock off being diabolical. Obviously, River swoops in to save the day and beat the bad guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Vague spoilers, a bit of Timey Wimey confusion.

The sad call of the TARDIS' departure was the  _only_  sound in the room for a long moment.  Sam was staring at where his brother stood, or more specifically at the angel half curled around the hunter.   _Well, I didn't expect that._  
  
"Cas?"  Dean was just sort of letting Cas cling to him, eyes wide as he met his brother's gaze over the angel's shoulder.  "Uh, Cas... they've stopped shooting."  
  
"I apologize," Cas grunted, releasing Dean.  "I did not intend to make you uncomfortable."  
  
Dean frowned at him.  "What took you so long?"  
  
The angel turned around, eyes narrowing at Sam.  "I was delayed unexpectedly.  I apologize," he repeated.  
  
"It's alright," Dean muttered, also focusing on Sam.  "You're here, and you're okay.  That's what matters."  
  
Sam's brows lifted as he looked between them.  "You two have gotten close," he commented.  "Very.  Uh, Dean, is there something you haven't been telling me?"  He grinned.  
  
"Cute," Dean retorted, rolling his eyes.  
  
"The Winchester must be converted," one of the Cybermen announced, stepping forward.  "We will convert the Winchester now."  
  
Sam gave the metal contraption an impatient frown.  "Wait a minute, will you?  I mean, this is my brother here.  I should at least tell him goodbye."  
  
"Your sentiment is irrelevant.  Conversion must be completed quickly, or the Winchester will escape," the Cyberman replied.  "We have learned this of the Doctor and his Companions."  
  
Huffing, the younger male gave Dean a smile.  "Well, you heard the..."  He looked at the Cyberman.  "Thing.  Can't argue with that.  Alright."  
  
"We need to leave, Dean," Cas announced, grabbing the hunter's arm.  
  
It was jerked away instantly.  "What?!  No!  I can't just leave Sam!"  
  
The angel frowned at him.  "They're going to kill you.  We cannot waste time arguing about this."  He reached out again.  
  
"I'm  _not_  leaving my  _brother_!" Dean roared.  
  
"Oh  _goody_ , I'd hoped you were going to stick around!" a familiar voice chirped.  "Oy, Cyber-willies, back off.  That meat-suit's mine."  
  
The Cybermen stopped, all three turning toward Crowley as one.  "That was not in the agreement, Demon King Crowley."  
  
Crowley waved a hand dismissively, though he looked a bit flattered.  "Aww, no need for full titles among friends, right?  Anyway, there's this little thing called a loophole.  Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are mine.  As you recall - and are quite welcome to check - my part of the deal specified that 'Winchester is mine'.  I didn't say which one  _or_  how many, see.  So, Dean's mine."  
  
The Cybermen paused for a beat, before simply vanishing in a flash of light.  The only explanation Dean could come up with for it was that Scotty must have beamed them up.  Crowley turned to them with a grin.  "Great!  Wonderful to see that you lads are doing so  _well_.  Hello, Castiel.  Hope you've been... healthy."  Dark eyes roved over the angel a beat, before the younger Winchester redirected his attention.  
  
"I thought you said you were going to kill him?" Sam demanded, looking annoyed.  
  
The demon just waved him off, though.  "Oh please, and waste the chance to have _two_ Winchesters,  _and_  an angel under my thumb?  Hah.  Right."  
  
Sam growled, taking a step toward him.  "Crowley..."  
  
"Hush, or I'll send you right back into the pit."  Crowley narrowed his eyes at Sam before shifting his focus to Dean and Cas.  "Right.  So here's the deal.   _I_  have possession of Sam's soul, and if you don't want me to destroy it and him, and let the Cybermen loose on the Earth, you'll do exactly what I say."  
  
xXx  
  
Meanwhile, in Cardiff, Wales...  
  
"No, absolutely  _not_.  I'm sorry your friend is in trouble, Gabriel, but we can't risk it for one angel," Andre growled, shoulders tense as he crossed his arms.  
  
Gabe was shaking his head, feeling panic well in his chest.   _Castiel_...  "Please, Andre, I'm not asking to risk anyone else.  Just me-"  
  
But Andre wouldn't be deterred.  "No, Gabriel."  At the angel's desperate look, he sighed.  "If you can find a way that will neither implicate you, nor involve you personally, you can save him."  
  
Looking exasperated, Gabe leaned his weight back on his feet, wings shifting and the only sign of his anxiety.  Not that Andre could see them.  "And how am I supposed to do  _that_?"  
  
"Say please," a new voice spoke up, sounding amused.  
  
Both males jumped and turned, and the woman standing in the shadows grinned.  "Gabriel, right?  Pleasure to meet you,  _finally_.  I'm the Doctor's wife, and a friend of Castiel and Dean.  The name's River Song."  
  
Gabe wasted a moment gaping - when had the woman come in?  And how had she found them? - while Andre made an annoyed sound beside him.  "How?"  The French male was apparently not as easy to silence as Gabe.  To be fair, Gabe was under a lot of stress at the moment.  
  
The blonde's brows shot up, but she gave them both another grin.  "How... what?"  
  
"How did you get here?  And how did you find us?  Gabriel warded this place himself; breaking that is not easy," Andre replied sternly, crossing his arms again.  
  
Rolling her eyes, River shook her head.  "I didn't break them.  I was told where this place is.   _Apparently_ , I need to be here."  She waved a hand dismissively.  "Time travel.  Hard to keep track of, and I  _barely_  manage with the Doctor.  Anyway, the point is, you need me, and I'm not leaving until you accept it."  
  
At this, Andre glared full on at Gabe, who managed a shrug and a faint grin.  "Get.  Lost."  
  
"Gladly," the Arch Angel replied, visibly relieved.  He spun toward River, and grinned widely as he offered an arm.  "I believe we have business to discuss!"  
  
She curtsied, batting her eyelashes in Andre's direction.  "Indeed we do," she said, and took the proffered limb.  
  
They both vanished, and Andre rolled his eyes.  "I'm getting too old for this."  
  
xXx  
  
"No way in Hell."  
  
Crowley actually giggled at that one.  "You'd know  _all_  about that, wouldn't you?" he asked, almost flirtatiously.  All he got in response was a furious glare, so he took that as leave to continue, apparently.  "You realize none of you actually have a choice, ri-"  
  
There was a crack then, like the very atoms of the air splitting apart, and before Crowley even fully turned around, the woman standing there was firing her gun.  Of course, she  _missed_ , because he vanished.  "Gabby, sweety, your turn!" River chirped as she spun toward Sam.  
  
He'd only taken a single step when Gabriel appeared, pressing his open palm to the back of the man's head.  Sam crumbled to the ground, and River huffed.  "Show off."  
  
"Don't call me Gabby, it cramps up my style," Gabriel shot back.  "And makes me sound like a girl."  
  
"Well, if you didn't  _whine_  so much, maybe you  _wouldn't_  sound like a girl," she returned as he hoisted the youngest Winchester onto his shoulders.  
  
Dean was just sort of standing there, gaping, wondering what was going on, when Cas placed a hand on his shoulder.  "It is time for us to leave, now," the angel declared quietly.  
  
And just like that, they'd vanished and reappeared in the middle of Bobby's house.  To Dean's consternation, Bobby didn't even seem  _surprised_ at their appearance.  He soon found out why, seconds after Gabriel showed up with Sam and River.  
  
"Is it ready?" the sole female in the room asked immediately, even as Bobby climbed to his feet.  
  
He huffed, annoyed, but nodded.  "Yep, basement's this way, c'mon."  
  
Still feeling a bit like someone had taken his head and hid it without telling him first, Dean gave Cas a lost look.  "What just happened?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blah. Finally done with that chapter. Sorry again for the late update. Next chapter, we have an interlude, in which we meet a younger Sherlock!
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	13. Something of an Ungraceful Rally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has Sam locked in Bobby's basement, River's antsy to get back on the road, and Crowley is Not. Happy. River warns the Doctor that something is coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: References to canon, lack of John and Sher, short chapter

While Sam was passed out in the panic room, Cas left to fetch the Doctor, and then the group had a sit down, in which River fully explained everything.  “The Doctor showed up in my office,” she said cheerfully.  “Gave me a time and date, and told me that I needed to go there immediately.”  She reached over and grabbed the Doctor’s sleeve, stopping him halfway out of his chair.  “Not yet.”  
  
Pouting, he sat down again, and Dean spoke up.  “So?  He sent you here?”  
  
She shook her head.  “No, he sent me to see Gabriel here, except from a different time.  Gabriel outlined what was meant to happen and when, and sent me off to find his past self.  He even told me where to find his hiding place, and how to get in.”  
  
“Ah  _hah_ ,” the arch angel in question said in understanding.  
  
“Sorry, he told you everything?” the Doctor demanded, almost indignantly.  “Isn’t that sort of...  _cheating_?”  
  
She patted her husband’s hand.  “Just what I needed to know, don’t worry, dear.”  
  
The Doctor glared at Gabriel, who merely wiggled his fingers at the time lord.  “So then you came and got me, and we made our escape plan, and saved the day,” Gabe summed up.  
  
River let out a put upon sigh.  “No,” she said.  “Then I ran into Castiel.”  
  
Said angel blinked when all attention shifted to him.  “Yes,” he said after a second.  “We were... attacked.  That is why I was late in meeting up with you.”  
  
“Somehow, my time traveling,” the woman held up her wrist, showing off a bracelet that made the Doctor scoff, “interrupted his teleportation, and we ended up on the Belt of Romanus.  He helped me get to where I was going, and we parted ways.”  
  
“ _Then_  you met up with me?” Gabe asked, and she nodded.  
  
“Then I met up with Gabriel.  By the way, you have fuzz in your hair, darling,” she said, eying him.  
  
He lifted a hand and brushed it off as the Doctor regained her attention.  “Wait, River... Your office?”  
  
She blinked and shot him an unimpressed look.  “I  _know_  you’re not silly enough to  _not_  know I’m an archaeologist.”  
  
He grimaced.  “I know that!”  He frowned, and got up, grabbing her wrist.  “Speaking of, we should figure out where we are...”  
  
“Oh right.”  She blinked, and grabbed at her hip pouch as they left.  
  
There was a beat of quiet between those remaining.  “Where’s Sherlock and John?” Dean asked abruptly, looking at his angel.  
  
Cas tilted his head.  “They expressed the wish to remain behind, though they were relieved to hear you’re alright.”  
  
“And Sherlock?  He’s alright?” the Winchester pressed.  
  
“Yes.  He is unharmed,” Cas replied, brow furrowing in consternation as Dean slumped in relief.  “And you?”  
  
At that point, Gabriel realized this was one of those Dean-and-Cas-eye-fuck moments, and got up.  “Bobby!  Bobby, right?  You have a beer?  Or six?”  
  
The older gentleman got up from the couch with a sigh and a moody frown.  “C’mon, then.  You’re not having six of my beers, unless you plan on replacing them...”  
  
Dean watched them go, before patting the now-empty seat on the couch where Bobby had been.  “I’m fine.  Just...”  He shrugged.  
  
“Disappointed,” Castiel suggested, obeying the silent request and relocating.  “I understand the feeling.”  
  
Dean nodded, rubbing his jaw with an open palm.  He sighed.  “Why did Crowley want us under his thumb so badly?”  
  
Castiel was prevented from answering when they both heard the now-familiar sound of the TARDIS departing, and both of them rushed to the door.  However, the ship was gone from the porch by the time they’d gotten there, and Dean cursed under his breath.  “Dammit, now what?!”  
  
Bobby approached, looking annoyed.  “Where did he go?  I thought he was going to help us with Sam?”  
  
The younger of the two hunters threw up his arms and scowled.  “Hell if I know.  He didn’t say anything, just took off.”  
  
“Oh, we disbanding?” Gabriel asked from behind them.  “Well in that case, I should get back.  Good luck!”  
  
“Wai-”  And he was gone.  Dean growled.  “Damn angels!”  
  
He felt, more than saw, Cas’ hurt look.  
  
xXx  
  
“Bloody  _Winchesters_!” Crowley screamed, and kicked over a table.  
  
Nearby, a smirking lady shook her head.  “Now, now, dearest.  You’re clearly over reacting.  We got what we wanted, didn’t we?”  
  
He rounded on her with a furious glower.  “What I  _wanted_ , was for those  _denim-clad monstrosities_  to be where I could keep an eye on them!  Now they’re in the wind, and I’m the  _only one_  that seems to realize just how  _bad_  that is for  _my business_!”  
  
She yawned.  “Done yet?”  
  
“NO I’M NOT DONE!”  
  
She sighed and sat there boredly while the other demon ranted and raved about his stupid boy crushes, before she snapped her fingers.  Crowley shut up and turned to scowl at her.  “ _WHAT!!_ ”  
  
Dark brows arched.  “Time is running out, Crowley, and you do know how much that vexes my employer.”  She smiled when his shoulders tensed.  “Relax.  Her Majesty is not currently interested in punishing  _you_.  She wants  _him_ , plain and simple.  Now we have the means to capture him, thanks to you.  So just sit tight and be patient.  I’ll let you know when it’s time to make our next move.”  
  
He glared at her as she disappeared in a flicker of light.  
  
xXx  
  
“I don’t understand why you’re so insistent,” River scoffed as her husband dragged her out the door of the TARDIS.  She frowned when she saw they were in her office.  “Doctor-  _Doctor_!”  
  
He huffed, and snatched up a letter from her desk.  “I knew it,” he breathed, and dropped it, spinning to face her.  “Let’s have a date.”  
  
She blinked.  “I...”  A nearby phone let out a shrill ring.  “Damn.”  
  
He watched her dart over and snatch it up, the letter for the Library mission clenched in his fist.  “Hello?  Yes, this is she.  Wha- I am?  What day is it?  Oh bloody...”  Her eyes darted toward a clock on the wall.  “Yes, yes I can.  No, we- well, alright.  Okay, I’ll be there shortly.  Yes, thank you.”  She hung up, and sighed.  “I can’t, Doctor.  I have things to do.”  
  
The Doctor gave her a sad look, dark eyes trained on her face.  Memorizing it.   _This is the last time..._  
  
“But before I do, I have to warn you,” she said suddenly, stepping into his personal space.  She reached up, swallowing, and grabbed his face between her hands.  “Doctor, you have to watch out for the punishment.  Okay?  Don’t let down your guard.   _Never_.”  
  
He shook his head, eyes closing as he memorized the feeling of her palms on his face.  Punishment indeed...   _Oh River_.  “Don’t go,” he breathed, grabbing her hand.  He pulled it away from his cheek, and leaned down, kissing her.  
  
Her arm hooked around the back of his neck, and she dragged him back, hips knocking into the side of the desk.  “I have to,” she gasped out abruptly, several minutes later when they broke apart.  “We’ll see each other again, my love.”  
  
Dropping his head onto her shoulder, he could only nod, even though he knew it wasn’t so.  It couldn’t be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	14. Something of an Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go back to a place before Time was relevant, with a smiling face and a child destined for so many things. We visit the genius in his first years, long before 221b Baker street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Young!Sherlock, Affectionate!Mycroft
> 
> Here you go! Chapter 13~ Sorry it took so long to post it. >.>; I've actually had it written since... like, Christmas. ^^; Wonder why I'm only just posting it... ah well. Anyway, enjoy!

When Sherlock was born, he came  _screaming_.  He was furious with the doctors, and the people all around making so much noise and making him  _breathe_.  How  _dare_  they?  
  
Apparently, he had decided that this sentiment was  _not_  adequately put across, because he wouldn’t  _stop_  screaming.  Not until his mother finally held him, and shushed him firmly.  His wailing gradually quieted under her watchful gaze, before she waved her eldest over.  
  
Little Mycroft peered over the edge of the bed, eyes wide and jaw slack, at the miracle that was to be his little brother.  Then dark, inquisitive eyes met his, an inky black that seemed to suit the newborn babe eerily well.  
  
“What’s his name?” the eldest Holmes boy asked.  His mother had refused to tell him, saying it would be a surprise, but enough was enough.  He  _had_  to know!  
  
Smiling slightly, despite her obvious exhaustion, the newly widowed Ms. Holmes murmured, “Sherlock.”  
  
By his first birthday, Sherlock was advanced in quite a few things.  He understood most of the sign language his family and the doctors used, and he was quite adept at getting what he wanted.  
  
One of the things he  _wasn’t_  advanced on was speech.  It didn’t really worry the doctors, though.  They claimed that Sherlock was simply lazy.  “Doesn’t want to talk,” one man said, amused.  “Doesn’t need to.  He gets by just fine without it.”  
  
He then declared that they needed to prompt Sherlock to vocalize what he wanted.  Force him to say it, and as the months passed them by, they tried it.  Sherlock wasn’t having it, though, and soon enough learned to do things on his own, since  _clearly_  the bigger people were incapable of doing so.  
  
By the time he was two, Mycroft was quite sure that his little brother could get pretty much anything he wanted whenever he wanted.  And he never once said a word to anyone about whatever it was.  
  
The little bugger was patient, and  _manipulative_.  When Mummy and Mycroft wouldn’t get him something, he’d wait, and then go to the staff.  The maids especially were bad about sneaking him things even when he didn’t verbalize.  
  
Eventually, of course, Mummy gave up.  The boy was clearly more stubborn than her, and she was simply too tired much of the time to waste energy with it.  By contrast, Mycroft never stopped poking, trying to get his brother to speak.  It was  _his_  job as a big brother to look after him, after all.  
  
“Just  _say_  it, Sherlock,” he’d stress, frustrated, and his brother would pause to give him a look that clearly said what he thought.  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” Mycroft would prod.  This would only gain him a roll of the now pale, perfect blue eyes, and Sherlock would wander off to trick someone else into getting him what he wanted.  
  
It wasn’t until the boy was three that he finally spoke, in the middle of a party, amongst guests that were being loud, and laughing, and talking.  There was music, and noise all over the main ballroom...  And then there was Sherlock, awoken from bed and standing on the top of the stairs with this absolutely  _furious_  look on his face.  Almost like the party was personally offensive to him.  
  
“Shut.  Up!” he yelled, voice loud enough to be heard over the noise, and everyone fell silent a moment in surprise.  “I’m  _sleeping_.”  
  
Then he was gone, disappearing back into the depths of the manor, and Mummy looked so pleased.  Mycroft grinned and excused himself, sneaking upstairs to his brother’s room.  
  
He found the little boy curled up on his bed, with his hands over his ears and this annoyed look on his face.  As soon as the door opened, though, he sat up straight and  _glared_.  
  
“Not going to work, little brother,” Mycroft said, smirking.  “You’ll have to  _tell_  me to get out if you want me to go away.”  
  
That pale, slightly chubby face scrunched up and Sherlock flopped back out on his bed with an irritated huff.  Mycroft smirked and climbed into the bed with his brother.  “I’m proud of you,” he whispered after a few moments had passed.  
  
Sherlock snorted.  
  
“No, really, I am,” the elder boy insisted.  “It makes me happy.”  He received no answer, but he supposed he should take what he could get, and tugged his little brother closer.  “Night-night, Sherly.”  
  
“Nigh’, Crofty.”  
  
It was to be the first, and last, time they ever cuddled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


	15. Something of a Time Skip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack’s in Ancient Egypt, having a secret tryst with the Queen. In present day, Dean and Sam reminisce about the Doctor when Sherlock shows up with a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Time Skip, Jack being Jack, etc  
> Rating: T, to be safe

The pair on the large, luxurious bed finally parted, collapsing onto their backs as they gasped for breath.  The male laughed softly.  “Queen of Egypt.  Who’d have thought,” he said between pants.  
  
His lover snorted rather inelegantly, and stretched slowly.  After a beat, she climbed to her feet, rolling slim, tanned shoulders.  “Mm.  Perhaps you should hurry to leave,” she suggested.  She wandered over to a bowl of water set on a stand against the far wall, and began to clean herself up.  
  
“Can’t it wait a minute?” the guy asked, propping himself up onto his elbows.  He grinned as he eyed her shapely backside and slim waist.  “I’m not done with the view...”  
  
Dark green eyes glanced over her shoulder; they were a rather unusual color, but tended to get her a lot of attention among the courtiers and commoners alike.  She smirked and eyed him up and down.  “Well, that is delightful,” she agreed.  
  
He was amused to note that the black lines along her eyes were smudged.  “Make up, pretty,” he said, tapping his own eye.  
  
Hers narrowed, before she snatched up a mirror off to the side.  “Tch.”  She tossed long black locks over her shoulder and shook her head; when she began to correct the markings, she didn’t bother covering herself.  
  
It was a refreshing sort of confidence that had the man leering a little as he eyed her.   _Her Majesty Queen Anippe. **Score.**_  
  
“Jack, come assist me, please.”  It wasn’t a request.  
  
And anyway, who was Jack to refuse the Queen of Egypt?  
  
xXx  
  
 _Present Day..._  
  
Dean wandered through the convenience store, a metal basket hanging from his elbow.  He reached out, snagging a box of off-brand Twinkies and tossing them in.  Across the store, he heard the faint sound of Sam chuckling.  "Dean, look!  A fez."  
  
Dean blinked and looked up.  Sure enough, his huge brother was holding aloft a cute little red fez.  "You're a friggin' child, man," Dean declared, amused.  
  
Scoffing, Sam dropped it back onto the hat rack.  "No.  I was just thinking that the Doctor would like it."  
  
There was a beat as they fell silent, both obviously thinking the same thing.  The Doctor had disappeared all those years ago, and they hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man since.  The Cybermen had supposedly been dealt with - according to Jack - and after the nonsense with the leviathans, Crowley had vanished into the wood work.  It'd been almost a relief to go back to their own, nonalien, issues with hunting.  A relief to just... Leave everything to Jack and his Torchwood crew.  
  
But you don't walk away from an encounter with the Doctor as the same person.  The time lord had a way of changing people on the inside, and the Winchesters kept their eyes peeled.  In fact, they had even gone so far as to have first Bobby, then Garth circle the word, just in case the Doctor popped up.  
  
"Where do you suppose he is?"  
  
Dean looked up at his brother, and shrugged.  "Who knows."  
  
xXx  
  
When they got back to their current hotel room, it was to the sight of John Watson standing before their door, arms crossed and looking largely unimpressed by his lot in life.  Sam clambered out of the car, grocery sacks in hand, and furrowed his brows.  
  
"John?  Where's Sherlock?" the younger brother asked as Dean shut off the car.  
  
John's brows furrowed too, and blue eyes looked the mammoth hunter up and down warily.  "Hi to you too," he said shortly, then jerked his thumb toward the slightly ajar door.  "He's inside.  Being nosy, I suppose."  
  
Leaning into the back seat, Dean retrieved his bags and nudged the door shut with a hip.  "Not that we're not overjoyed to see you-"  
  
"We  _are_ ," Sam scolded, scowling at his brother's sarcasm.  
  
Dean ignored him.  "-but what are you two doing here?"  
  
John opened his mouth to answer, but the door snapped open, revealing Sherlock in all his snide glory.  "Inside.  This is business," he said, grabbed John by the hand, and dragged him in.  
  
"Wai- wha-?" Sam stammered, surprised and baffled.  
  
Shaking his head, Dean followed their friends inside, hearing Sam shut and lock the hotel door behind him.  "What's this about?" the younger asked.  
  
Sherlock had claimed a position by the room's sole window, and was peeking out it.  "John-" he began impatiently.  
  
"Yes yes, shut up," John snapped without heat, and snagged a nearby chair.  He flopped down in it, watching as Sam began putting the perishables away into the room's mini fridge.  "Erm, we are actually wondering if you've seen Jack, or the Doctor, lately."  
  
"Harkness is missing," Sherlock clarified, letting the curtain fall into place again.  He turned to eye them.  
  
Dean frowned.  "Want a beer?" he asked, nodding to Sam.  
  
Sherlock huffed.  "No.  Sam, you've grown very large since we last met."  
  
"Thanks," Sam said, smiling as he handed John a Yuenling.  "You look well, too.  It's nice to see you...  Er, you know, while I have a soul."  
  
Sherlock waved off the beer when it was held out to him.  "I don't want it."  
  
"It's just a beer," Dean said, eyes narrowing.  "You got something against beer?"  
  
Sherlock sneered.  "It's disgusting.  I don't drink beer."  
  
John sighed after sipping his beer, and got up.  He took another drink, dragged Sherlock over, and kissed him.  
  
Dean choked, looking on in horror.  "Augh!  What the hell?!?"  
  
There was a beat of silence, during which Sam beaned Dean with a balled up piece of paper.  Finally, John pulled back, nodded, resumed his seat, and chugged down half of his beer.  Dean noted his face was slightly red.  
  
Meanwhile, Sherlock was frozen in place, staring at John in shock.  He inhaled abruptly.  "Salty-  holy water?"  
  
Dean smacked his forehead with a hand.  
  
Then the detective turned to frown at John.  “You could have just told me!”  
  
“I figured that wouldn’t have been as amusing,” John replied flatly, turning his head to regard the taller male.  “You’re blushing.”  
  
“You kissed me!”  
  
“It’s not like it’s the first time,” John said, blinking at him.  
  
Sherlock only got redder, and scowled as he turned away.  “We don’t go around snogging, just so you know,” he said, mostly to Dean, who was watching on in amusement.  
  
Sam shook his head.  “Anyway, no, we haven’t seen Jack...  I take it he’s missing?  But why are you coming to  _us_?  Doesn’t he have a fancy team in Cardiff?”  
  
Shrugging, John took another sip of his beer.  “Who d’you think hired Sherlock?  He’s always had better luck finding people than they have, apparently.  They exhausted everything, and it’s not like Jack to just disappear.”  
  
A snort from Sherlock contested that.  “No, according to Gwen, it’s ‘very like him, but this was suspicious even for him’.  He was following a lead around midnight, and suddenly just vanished.  We checked the location, but got nothing.  There were no signs of struggle, no suspicious audio.”  
  
The brothers exchanged a look, before Sam sighed and pulled out a phone.  “Alright, we’ll make a few calls,” Dean said as the younger Winchester got up to step outside.  
  
The door closed behind him, and Sherlock stared at Dean.  “So he remembers?”  
  
“It’s been several years, and we’ve gone through a lot of shit, but yeah.  He remembers you,” Dean said, and shrugged uncomfortably.  “He’s not a bad kid, Sherlock...  He was in a bad place, he didn’t-”  
  
“Control himself?  He had complete control over himself,” Sherlock refuted flatly.  “And I haven’t forgotten anything.  Regardless, he didn’t hurt me, so I’ll let it be for now.  But I don’t trust him, and you can’t ask me to do so.”  
  
Dean couldn’t argue that point, so he nodded and grabbed his own phone.  “Yeah.  Guess not.  Look, uh.... you two just make yourselves comfortable.  I’ll be back, hopefully with news.”  
  
“Okay,” John said, watching him go, and turned to eye his flatmate.  “It’ll be alright.  You know that, don’t you?”  
  
Sniffing, Sherlock turned away, going back to peeking out the window.  Likely, at the Winchesters.  “Don’t be an idiot, John.”  
  
The doctor smiled, and settled back to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short short... oh well, Freya’s always telling me it’s the content not the length that matters... >.>; Anyway, you guys have a doozy of an arc ahead for you. As for the time jump... well, my excuse is a combination of impatience, timey-wimey stuff, and ‘because I wanna’. Don’t worry about it screwing up the story (or any quality that I’ve somehow managed to retain), because I’m damn good at what I do. And what I do is write. You’ll see.

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and Supernatural, Doctor Who, Torchwood and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to their Moffat, Kripke and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating this alternate universe, and the story line only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.


End file.
